Finding Swan
by CuteMcBeauty
Summary: Hopelessness and ache filled Hook's heart after Pan's curse had separated him from Emma and sent him back to his realm. But a lowly bird carrying a message for him changed his life... and set a new course for his adventures: Finding the Savior.
1. A sail and a sale

Finding Swan

1. A sail and a sale.

The days dragged around him much like they had in Neverland, with a fiery feeling that seemed to burn his heart day in and day out. A similar feeling had haunted him for hundreds of years (had he really lived that long?), except this one was consuming him rather than feeding his desire to live long enough to kill someone. He had betrayed a mermaid princess to secure the planks he now sailed on with his crew, refusing her request of help to find her prince, marauded on some distant shore. He had honestly thought the colored planks and ropes of the Jolly Roger would quickly drown that terrible, hollow void in his heart. Alas, days, weeks, months had passed... and he found himself sailing an insipid ocean of woes and sorrows, regrets, desires unfulfilled... and the teasing memory of a kiss, still tickling his lips, a playful reminder of what could have been... and a torture that was set to haunt him for the rest of his days.

Some evenings, when the crew slept, he'd sit atop the deck and look at the stars... He'd see swan figured constellations guiding his ship to nowhere. She didn't remember him... she didn't know who he was and how much he loved her any more. She no longer had a clue regarding their times, adventures and conversations and in spite of not reciprocating his feelings, he ached at the thought that Captain Hook would be nothing more than some comedic character from a children's film, a villain in the pages of a book, and nothing else. She harbored no recollection of the kiss she had given him in Neverland, that kiss that was child's play to her but had completely and utterly turned his whole world upside down. And while she no longer even held the memory of his voice, his eyes, his smile, he had so far maintained himself true to his words, those last words he had ever said to her... _'There's not a day will go by that I won't think of you...' _

And he had, every single day, hour and minute... And it hurt, like a million knives to his already blackened, tainted heart.

On one occasion of many where he spent those cold nights adrift in the ocean, he stared into the vast infinity of the ocean around him and the stars that reflected upon the peaceful stillness of the waters, gloriously crowned by a full moon. No significant amount of Rum would ever be able to quench that desire to reach out and feel her, touch her, kiss her, or maybe just... just see her one last time. If only he could... Like many nights before, her name echoed painfully on his lips. "Emma...", before he felt the wind in his eyes that triggered the tear that found their own way down his scuffed, scarred cheek. The pain was far worse than what it had been when Milah had died. He had at least given her a sea burial, said his goodbye and turned to a different direction after she had gone, albeit a tortuous, vengeful one. But he had survived.

This was probably worse than Milah and Liam's passing put together.

He had toyed with the notion of committing his miserable self to Davy Jones's Locker. With her gone from his life and him from her memories, he had no direction to sail to. No sextant, no magic or treasure could ever replace the green glint in her eye or the sunshine of her hair. He had stepped atop the deck for his final time.

With a sorrowful sigh, he took a swig from his flask and tossed the now empty bottle into the sea. His hand gingerly touched the handles of the helm, polished by years of his hand's friction, and caressed it as he would a loyal dog. He grinned a sad grin, tears running down his eyes. "I'm sorry, old girl." He spoke to his ship, his only loyal love, if only a material bunch of 'planks and a sail', as Ariel had stated. "A better Captain deserves to set your course. I'm far too broken now, m'girl, not man enough for a beauty like yourself. I yearn for another, love, one that I can never have nor will I ever see again... you must understand. I truly wish I had been right, I truly wish you had been all I needed. And you were, m' darling, for the longest of times... but now, you must continue sailing and I... I will stop here. I thank you, my Jolly..."

It was odd, but he could have sworn that the ship replied with a long, high pitched sound of creaking wood. The Jolly Roger ached for her master's heartache and mourned their soon to be parting.

With a sigh, he cleaned off his tears with the frilled sleeve of his black shirt, and set out to fasten the wooden plank along the edge of the ship. How many crones, villains and malfeasants, pirates, guardsmen, fathers, sons and brothers had he pushed off the wavering edge of the Jolly's plank? He didn't really know. But he understood that all deeds have a price... and this was his. To endure a lifetime of ache and sorrow, alone, cursed with the mermaid's malediction, and the tragedy of Emma's oblivion. The one thing that made him grin amidst the darkness of his final thoughts was the notion that she was well, she was safe and happy with her son.

He stepped atop the plank and walked, feeling the unsteady wobble of the ship like he never had before, gingerly trying to reach the edge. He closed his eyes and grinned, feeling the breeze hit his face, longing for a life he no longer had and a woman he no longer knew...

And the impulse to jump into the watery chasm of his death was interrupted by the sound of fluttering wings.

He turned with a scorn to his helm; sitting atop, was a pigeon... a white pigeon.

He knew he was far too deep in the sea to have a shore bird of the sort come from land. This one possessed magic... and though his squinting eyes he saw something attached to its leg.

Curiosity took the best of him as he returned from the edge of death and approached the wanderlust bird, who cooed softly as he took it into his hand, reaching with his teeth to retrieve what seemed to be a message scribbled on a piece of fabric... and a tiny blue bottle.

He had to read the words more than once to fully grasp the meaning of the message... and he felt a sudden gush of wind sweep through the mast, helm and decks of the Jolly Roger, returning a glimpse of light, of hope, into his burdened heart.

_'New curse coming, less than one day. Find The Savior. Memory potion in flask. Be the hero, Captain, bring Emma back home. '_

For the first time in months, he felt an inevitable smile tickle his lips and a mild scuff left his lungs. "Emma..." he whispered.

Savior indeed; by the mere mention of her name she had just saved his life, yet again and without even knowing it!

Forgetting the death wish of the earlier hour, he swiftly climbed all the way atop the mast and jumped into the top basket. Using his sextant, he measured the exact latitude where the Charmings had last been, as well as the possible course to as distant a land as possible.

He grabbed a rope and slid all the way back down to the deck, and jumped to the alarm bell, ringing his crew awake. It took less than a minute for all the groggy pirate sailors to reach the deck and stand in line before the Captain.

"Listen here, you mangy dogs!" He started. "There's word of a new curse headed our way from the Enchanted Forest. The wind favors us tonight, so we are to deviate from this course and shall anchor over at Shoreman's Cove... There, all of you shall spend the rest of the day looking for the necessary provisions, to be back in the ship at no later than oh-two-hundred hours. From there we sail south- south east, as fast as the wind can carry us. Is that clear?"

"AYE AYE, SIR!" They all shouted before scurrying off in different directions, pulling ropes, setting white sails aloft a strong breeze... and the Captain proudly standing behind the help of his ship.

Smee stood beside him. "Sir, the plank is set."

"I'm aware of that, Smee..."

"Did you do off with one of your crew, sir?"

Hook turned two dark blue eyes under thick eyebrows. "No, but I shall, should you not cease this line of interrogation on your Captain..." Hook replied, irritated.

The podgy man scratched his head under his red hat. "Sorry sir, it just seems awfully odd to me. The plank should not be set if no man is to be thrown overboard."

"The only oddity here, Mr. Smee..." Killian stood mere inches from his face. "...Is for the first mate to be so bloody nosey of his Captain's private affairs. Now, this is my final warning: Leave... off. Now, will you continue this pointless pursue at your very own peril, or shall you just do as you're bloody told?"

Smee swallowed hard and nodded. "Im sorry sir. I'll get started right away..." And off he walked.

Stern looking, Hook looked into the horizon; but for all his efforts, he was incapable of concealing the impudent grin that lined his lips. "Emma..." He kept whispering to himself. "I'm coming to you, m'love..."

The Jolly reached the shores of the fishing town of Shoreman's Cove just after dawn; seeing the infamous ship of the well known bucaneer Captain Hook, the local fishermen cowered away and left the harbours free for the pirates to freeload. But the Captain instructed his crew to go in and go deep, to buy rum, apples and dried meat. Plus, he gave them three hours' shore leave.

Within minutes, the entire crew had squandered and he was left alone. No sooner had the last sailor taken his leave, he immediately set sail, fast and swift.

Along the way he started to try and lighten the weight of the vessel; he dumped barrels of rum over the edge, books, furniture, clothing and (with the deepest sorrow), his brother's books, maps and general belongings. When the curse was finally in plain view, he practically became a one-man crew; he had managed to outrun many a storm, but a curse was another thing altogether. Killian had practically been on his feet for over a day, was wet and cold to the bone and could feel that his ship would fall apart at any given second.

But on he pressed. "Go on, girl, hold out for me..."

When he turned his head back, he saw with regret how the massive cloud of green smoke engulfed the village he had left not an hour earlier, and a sigh of regret for his loyal crew left his lips. Still, he had no time to sit and wallow; he had a savior to save.

He certainly was one hell of a Captain.

By the time he reached the Eastern shores and the dessert dunes, the curse had run its course. He allowed himself the luxury of collapsing on his bed and sleeping for an entire day before setting out to the local village in search of a wizard, seer, witch or magician who might have either a bean of the adequate wand to set him on his way back to Emma.

He asked in every tavern where he could find a procurer of rare items, or a sorcerer... And the one person he encountered surprised even him.

In a sense, seeing that Blackbeard was alive after he had shoved him off the edge of the plank was a relief; he had been burdened with guilt since their encounter, both because he had abandoned Ariel to her quest and because, regardless of the dubious laws of piracy that acknowledged his actions, it no longer felt right to kill a man. Apparently, after diving off the Jolly Roger, the young mermaid had saved Blackbeard in exchange for the location of her prince; the pirate had kept his word of gratitude for saving him and led the young mermaid princess to Eric.

They met at a dark tavern just off a beaten road, not far from the docks. Killian sat, tapping his hook on the wooden table, staring into the eyes of his foe, who held a pistol under the wooden slab, aimed directly at Hook's gut, while Hook held his blade to Blackbeard's groin.

They were locked; they either struck a deal or killed one another.

"So, let me see if I understand you, Hook..." the babbling older pirate spoke with a sarcastic smirk, his eyes clad in black eyeliner. "You have come here in search of passage to the other worlds, eh? And you were told that I would likely be the best source for it..." He laughed and leaned into the table. "And what makes you think I'd cooperate, mate?"

Killian smiled his deadliest grin. "Because, everyone knows who Edward Teach and Killian Jones are... and, that they are pirates, the very worst of them. As such, mate, we have a code to follow..." He leaned forward, his blade pressed against his enemy's privates. "Should you provide me with a satisfactory response, I am willing to repay you... quite handsomely." He clucked his tongue. "Should you not, well..." he grinned. "We shall both die. And neither one of us will profit. Alas, unlike you, I have nothing to lose."

Blackbeard laughed. "And why should I trust you?"

"Well, for one, I have my sword too close to your personals, love. By the time you pull the trigger, you will have bled halfway out. You know how fast a bladesman Captain Hook is known to be, don't you? So, it's either that, or..." he shrugged. "We do business and have over and done with. The fact that we are pirates should not deter us from being gentlemen, now, should it, Teach?"

"And I suppose it was awfully gentlemanly on your part to shove me off the plank, then, Jones..."

"No more than stealing a fellow pirate's ship, mate." Killian grinned, tilting his head sideway. "The code entitled me to either maraud you, behead you or make you walk the plank. The latter seemed a little less..." He sneered and shrugged. "...melodramatic."

Blackbeard huffed and licked his lower lip. He chuckled and looked back up to Hook. "Verily... before I even dare ask what it is you offer, Hook..." He leaned forward on the table. "I must say, I can't deny the fact that I feel deadly curious as to your musings. You were once the deadliest pirate of these oceans, even fiercer than I and Long John silver put together..." He chuckled ironically. "Then we all become aware that Captain Hook has gone soft for some unworldly wench. So... what makes you want to leave the realm this time? Same bird?"

Hook pressed his lips together. "My business is my own. Are you up to the trade, or are you not?"

Blackbeard laughed aloud. "Hook, Hook, Hook... Did you not only just suggest we be gentlemen?" he raised his one free hand with a chuckle. "Answer my query and I might just consider making a deal with you... Is this for some bloody snip, that you do all this? Has the infamous one handed terror of the oceans truly lost his gut?"

Killian gritted his teeth and snarled back at Blackbeard. "She, mate... is The Savior. And that is all you need to know." He too, leaned into the table. "So then, Blackbeard... will there be a trade, or should I take my quest elsewhere, to someone who might just be interested in the Jolly Roger?

Black beard raised an eyebrow. "Your vessel..."

"Aye..."

"For a bloody bean?"

Hook swallowed. "That is all I need."

Blackbeard swept his adversary with his gaze before suddenly pulling away his armed hand and placing the pistol on the table. Hook lowered the blade.

"Well, I do believe you have all but given up on piracy, Captain Jones." Blackbeard smirked. "I could just as easily put a hole through your spleen and take your ship."

"Aye, you could." Killian nodded. "But you won't. Quite simply because... well..." he grinned again. "...you can't wait to flaunt my ship to the world as your own... and to tell everyone that I willingly yielded her to you in exchange for that particular merchandise. You can't tell the world that Captain Hook has gone soft if he's dead now, can you? You can't wait to become this realm's most cutthroat pirate, now, to have control of MY trade routes on MY ship, the idea of that is just far too enticing, mate. So..." he placed his blade back into its sheath and placed his open palm on the table. "Do we have a deal?"

Blackbeard's eyes rolled from Kiliian's hand to his eyes, and a smile cruised his lips. "You willingly seek such humiliation, Hook?"

Killian raised an eyebrow and replied promptly. "I'll have you do as you will, mate, I have no intention of returning to this blasted realm."

After staring hard into Hook's eyes, Blackbeard laughed aloud. "This wench must be a bloody goddess..." He reached out and shook his foe's hand. When he pulled away, a single, white bean sat on Hook's palm.

Killian grinned and closed a fist around it, taking it to his lips as he closed his eyes, his every thought focused on his Swan as he reached into his pocket for the key to unlock the helm of the Jolly Roger. He held it out to Blackbeard, who took it gently from Hook's fingers. "She's yours, Teach. Sail her well."

"Oh..." He nodded. "I intend to..." Hook huffed, nodded and stood to walk away and set course to Emma's side as soon as possible. "Pleasure doing business with you, captain Hook!" He shouted mockingly from the table as he pocketed the key.

Killian turned a sad and unburdened look at the other pirate, grinning and shaking his head. "Wish I could say the same, mate..." And out he walked before anyone in the joint could see the tears in his eyes.

From the distance, he took one final glance at his ship; he heaved and bit his lip.

"Swan..." he muttered under his breath. "I will find you..." He turned and walked away, never to look back again.

In spite of his sadness over the loss of his beloved ship, his heart felt light. Sure, Blackbeard, he knew, would slander his name. He would be the one to sail his vessel to the far confines of the realm, sleep in the bed that had sheltered him nights and take over his trade routes... but he didn't care; he was to see Emma again. And that alone made him slime as he threw the bean hard onto the barren floor. As the vortex swirled beneath his feet, a deep sigh echoed the name of his love... and in her blessed name, he took a leap of faith into the revolving hole, thinking her, feeling her, seeing her in his mind and praying that the gateway would lead him to the right location...


	2. New York City

New York City…

He had been there before, almost two years earlier, only that in that previous escapade he had carefully planned the death "The Crocodile" and had traced his every step, poisoned the tip of his hook with Dreamshade and stabbed him.

He now thanked every living god in every realm he had failed.

The swirling vortex opened up in an alleyway just off Times Square; Killian was thrown to the concrete ground and landed on his left shoulder, a spot that since the loss of his hand had never quite been the same due to the alterations in muscle and tendon endings after his limb was severed. He winced in pain and turned on his back, trying to breathe deep and make the pain disappear. As he opened his eyes he was greeted with the image of a homeless man and the smell of foul liquor fell upon his nostrils.

"Hey man..." the guy said. "Are you like... the Terminator, or something?"

Killian huffed and sat up. "Bloody hell..." he reached to the back of his head and rubbed the nape that had taken a mild bump. He looked around, his eyes greeted by the familiar sight of massive edifices that had once already served him as beacons; because if there was anything Captain Hook was good at, it was at finding his way.

"Where am I?" hook blurted, just to be on the safe side.

"New York City, man, 2014." The bum slurred. "You're looking for Sarah Connor, still?"

Killian winced. "Sarah who? No, mate... Emma Swan."

The homeless guy's eyes widened. "I knew it was a real fucking story! The savior of the future..." He held his bottle up, defensively. "You gonna kill me, now?"

He huffed at the homeless guy. "Why would I do that?"

"Well, because you're the ter..."

"Tell me, mate... what do I do if I want to find someone in this city?"

The bum took two steps back. "Mister, for five bucks I'll tell you where you can find your own mother..."

Killian sneered at the man and then stood up. "You're talking nonsense, man. My mother expired the day I was born." He adjusted his satchel over his shoulder and stood, still aching over his left shoulder. "Now, all I need to do is find her..."

The homeless guy furrowed his dirty brow and eyed Hook from head to toe. "Why are you dressed like that, buddy?"

Killian returned the gaze. "And why are YOU dressed like that?" He shrugged and walked off.

"Insensitive asshole!" the bum shouted at him as he left the alleyway.

What the blazes was 'a buck', anyway?

Killian walked for what felt like hours when it had been maybe no more than forty five minutes. He had forgotten the crowds of this particular city and it bewildered him that his lovely Emma (not technically his, but he WOULD win her heart) would choose to live in such a rat race. He remembered that, when he perused a way to find The Dark One, he resorted to all sorts of cleverness: and he'd do the same to find Emma.

He pawned his gold doubloons for an amount of money he considered enough to sustain him for at least two weeks. He was shocked at the cost of real estate, so he settled for a dingy hotel room right in front of the subway tracks. That first night he was merrily accompanied by the wonderful sounds of the couple next door, going for it full jolt. "Lovey..." he huffed, his whole feeling of loneliness exacerbated by the sounds of what sounded like a wonderful time.

He slept through it anyway; he wasn't a picky guy.

Early the next morning he approached the front desk. "Mate... if I am set out to find someone, let's say, a person that dwells in this madness of a city, where should I start looking?"

The greasy old white guy behind the counter scratched his butt as he approached Killian. "Whoa, dude, that hook is fuckin' awesome!" He nodded, visibly altered by some substance.

"Yes, I am rather fond of it myself, now can you help me?"

"Yeah..." He wiped his nose with his hand, an act that made Killian sneer; in all his years as a pirate and despite the awful reputation they had regarding hygiene, the crew of the Jolly Roger had the uncanny order to remain clean and keep their quarters rat and grime free at all times. Must have been the military man in him. "You might need the phone book."

"Phone book?"

The guy huffed and produced a thick, damaged phone book from under the desk. "This one should do, buddy. Please don't ask me to look the name up for you as well..."

"Actually..." Hook sneered. "I've no idea how to..."

The man huffed. "Not my problem, amigo... It's alphabetical order, you figure it out..." he started walking back to his sitting place in a back room where an old tv flashed incandescent lights on the walls. He stopped midway and turned to Killian. "By the way, man, why are you dressed like that?"

Hook raised one eyebrow and one eye at the guy before turning his attention back to the phone book.

It wasn't until that moment that Killian Jones realized his eyesight wasn't all that good; the print on that thing was so small he'd sooner be able to see an army of ants smiling before making out what that blasted book read.

Must have been all those years of glaring into the sun and the sea.

He started by looking up Emma. But it took him only a few seconds to realize he had to go by the name Swan. And once he found it, the list was at least a thousand names longs. Thereon, he narrowed his search down to all the Emmas he could find and eventually ended up ripping out the page, not before also looking up Neal Cassidy. His name would likely help him out in his quest.

Back in his room, Killian was definitely in need for a drink, especially after he realized he would have to sift through at least fifty different Emma Swans. Neal was far easier to locate, but was still one between thirteen or fourteen. "How she can live here, I'll never know..." he huffed.

Then there was the whole issue of telephones.

The first thing that he noticed was that the damn phonebook only held series of numbers after each name; no addresses or maps. Killian huffed and ran a hand through his hair, his elbow on his knee. "What the bloody hell are these things?" He first thought they'd be coordinates, but they didn't make any sense form a cartographic standpoint, especially if they were all in the same city.

He once again went to the streets, in search, first and foremost, of a map. He was led (after asking around, much to his determent), where to obtain one. Once he had a map in hand it was far easier for him to move around, albeit much tougher.

The second order of the day was figuring out what the hell those numbers were all about. He felt like a fool, a former glorious pirate with the most sought-after vessel of the seas, the Captin of the Jolly Roger and its infamous crew... and now he was a ridiculously clad, one handed tourist who didn't even know what the hell a phone was. He just wound up sitting at a bench, just looking at people passing by... when a guy sat by his side... rather closely. "Psst, man..."

Killian turned around and found the young man was holding a rather sizeable knife under his jacket. "Your wallet..."

Killian huffed and chuckled. He drew a deep breath and turned a grinning face to the young thief. "Listen, mate... You don't want to mess with me right now. I've had a hell of a day but I am decidedly making my best effort to do the right thing and not cave into the darkness, so I will just let you stand up and leave... now."

The kid prodded Killian with the knife. "You think this is a fucking joke, man? Gimme your wallet, now or I'll cut you up, motherfucker..."

The pirate continued to stare at the boy, eyebrow up, and shook his head, clucking his tongue. "Such unnecessarily foul language... Alas... you cannot say you went unwarned, boy."

From nowhere, Killian's fake hand flew across the boy's face and the startled bandit dropped the knife and fell to the floor. Killian stood and grabbed him from his lapel after kicking the knife into the gutter. He dragged the boy against the wall under a bridge, the sound of the subway passing above their heads, and held him by the neck against a column. "Now you listen here, mate: I have been around this world far longer than you wish to fathom. So let me make myself perfectly clear: any... rouse, trick or hassle that you think you may have nailed down and picked up along the course of your petty life, is but an amateur's dalliance compared to what a man such as I can do to you, lad, should you not apologize and leave immediately after I am done with you..."

The kid was barely able to drag enough air. "You... crazy, man!"

Killian grinned and shrugged. "And rather dashing too, but that doesn't help our current conundrum now... does it?"

"What do you want?" The thief asked.

Killian released his grasp on the guy's throat and moved it to the lapel. "You will help me figure out what these bloody things are..." He wrinkled his nose and sneered right before the man's face, almost whispering. "Let's just say I'm not from around here and I am in no mood to be chastised for it, so I do not want to hear flak from you. Now..." He held the yellow page to the guy's nose. "What do I do to find the people in this list? How the hell do I use the bloody numbers?"

"Y... you mean the phone numbers?" The guy frowned and sneered. "You just... dial and call them, man!"

"Dial?"

"On a phone! Where the fuck do you come from that you don't know what a phone is?"

Killian looked on either side of his shoulders and swiftly changed the hand for the hook. The man swallowed. "Ok, all right, buddy just... ok, I'll show you, ok?"

Hook grinned. "That's a good lad. Now... Where can I find one of these... phones?"

"Th... there's one in the corner, over there..." Hook turned to look and found an eerie contraption encased in some sort of booth. "Or you ... you can have mine! In my pocket."

The pirate reached for the guy's pocket and took some sort of white, rectangular gadget that looked slick and shiny but served no other purpose. "So..." He nodded. "How do I do this?"

The thief winced. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Killian raised both brows and wiggled the hook under his nose. "Big hook here and a foul mood, mate... Won't tell you again."

The guy nodded and took the phone from Hook. He turned it on and activated the touch dial. "See those numbers? You just... dial the numbers you see there and then touch this green thing here and... put this to your ear and talk..."

"Talk to who?"

"To whomever picks up!"

"Picks what up?"

"Jesus, are you for real? Whomever answers on the other end! These are the numbers of people, you moron!"

Killian had no idea what the hell this kid was talking about; but he had all he needed. He'd figure the rest out by himself. "All right. Go now." He moved his hook arm form the man's neck, staring at the strange little gadget in his hand.

The man stepped away from him and eyed him from head to toe. "Why the fuck are you even dressed like that, man?" He shook his head and walked off, possibly pondering whether or not his scoundrel days were over.

Killian sighed deep and looked around him. This was going to be tough. But he'd get there... he'd find her.

He smiled and started his walk back home... or back to the smutty, dingy hotel he was lodging in. Once upstairs, he collapsed on his bed and accidentally hit the remote control for the television, that blared to life with a sudden blast of police car chases through Manhattan. Killian jumped and drew his sword, staring at the box in awe. "What the shaggin' hell...?" she sneered in shock, dropping the sword on the bed and approaching the box. "What bloody magic is this?"

He had a LOT to figure out.

Once he put two and two together regarding the remote, the television and the annoying sound of the trains that passed a few meters from his window, he sat back and began the arduous task of figuring out how to use the phone. It took him at least a good hour to manage to turn it on; in this particular realm, a hook wasn't quite as practical as it would be in the se or the Enchanted Forest. Eventually, he got the gist, and started dialing, one by one. Some answered, some did not. Some refused to speak, some flirted, some turned out to be men (probaboy jealous husbands, he thought, and prayed one of them wasn't Emma's), until one particular voice froze him solid.

"Hello?"

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think... all he could do was feel; feel his heart race, his soul soar and his lips turn upwards in a smile that seemed to stem from the very core of his heart. He would know that voice anywhere, everywhere...

"Hello? Who is this?" The voice sounded again.

"Swan..." he managed to whisper.

"Yes?"

Killian laughed and felt the tears run down his face... but then the line went dead. He looked at the thing with angst and saw it had gone dark; no light came from it any more, no matter how many times he tapped, touched or pressed the wee buttons on the sides.

Apparently the thief had failed to explain the need to re-charge a cell phone; batteries were not something Killian Jones would likely know about.

Angered, flustered and frustrated, he threw the gadget against the wall and turned to kick the bed before shouting loud at the ceiling.

He then sat down and held his head in his hand, sighing hard. He then collapsed back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Angered as he may have been, a smile re-emerged on his lips. Her voice... it was her, his swan, his savior... and even if this place would take a hell of a lot of effort to crack down, he'd find her. She was mere miles away; if he had crossed realms, traded his ship and risked his own life... this would be a doddle.

He felt the end of the long, heavy day fall on him and that night he slept, lulled by the memory of the sound of her voice and the promise of seeing her again... soon.


	3. Navigating

Navigating

Fuelled by the sound of Emma's voice the previous day, Killian was up at the crack of dawn, more because of the relentless noise of the subway trains passing meters away than because of his own biological clock. After so many years in Neverland, time had become an eerie thing for Hook; sometimes his inner ticker alerted him awake, sometimes it didn't. So even as he grumbled out of bed, he thanked the noisy clatter of the passing wagons for their kind waking gesture.

In spite of the 'cursed' technology of this realm, he was terribly grateful for showers. Now, that was a nifty contraption! Warm water and nice smelling cleaning substances had been a welcome thing to him, especially after so many years of not having them. Like any good sea Captain, he had become used to having water drawn from the ocean for bathing, cold and salty. His skin always had a remnant taste of years and years of this daily ritual; many women had often enjoyed that particular trait, and it tickled his imagination to think of Emma tasting his skin, savoring the salty residue of the sea on his body... and he would immediately fend off the thought before it had an... ahem, _upstanding_ effect on him. All the same, he had dallied more than once in thoughts, some of a sexual nature, others of plain love and comfort, involving his Swan. Not that he hadn't ever taken action upon them. His private thoughts were his private thoughts and sometimes, the ache of her absence had throbbed so hard on his body that he had needed to make use of his one hand to relieve the tension; he had thought of _wenching_ to alleviate his aching, loving libido, but the thought of betrayal of her, even if she hadn't really been his, was far too crushing. So, whenever he had been unable to free himself of the thought of her and the desire rose to very high levels, he would definitely take matters into his own hands. Or hand. Only to finish, breathe and weep for her absence once more.

After taking some extra time in the shower and even humming under the energizing effect of a body and hair shampoo, Killian emerged from the lavatory a new, pleased man. Dried off and clad in his leathers, he styled his hair (a ritual he had always taken with great seriousness, dapper young man that he was), and went back out, determined to at least close down on a specific neighborhood.

With the torn piece of phonebook and the map in his hand, Killian walked through the streets. In spite of being left alone, his unusual attire did draw a few bemused gazes. He wasn't even wearing the hook; the 17th century leather suit did all the job for him. At some point a hooker came onto him. He was unable to resist turning a flirty grin at her, completely unintentional (it was THAT engraved in his persona, it seemed; he'd have to figure out a way to get that under control or Emma would never, ever be his), smile which disappeared when the beauteous young woman spoke to him in a deep coarse voice and had the handsome pirate running for a block.

That was Captain Hook's introduction to cross-dressers.

At some point, he sat down in Central Park, just looking around; people seemed to go by on all sorts of strange transportation, the only one familiar to him, the horse-drawn buggies; other than that, he was fascinated by what he figured would be called "foot-propellers", which basically consisted of a line of colorful wheels on shoes. Some of these people were even able to dance in them; why anyone would dance around in the open was beyond him. Then there was the "two-wheel starving horse", where the person riding the contraption would be pedaling and making two large tires spin on their axis.

"Clever people.." He grinned, thinking that he would perhaps very much enjoy learning to ride one of those.

At some point he zeroed on another phone booth, much like the one the thief of the previous day had pointed out for him. He knew that the number alone wouldn't do much good, but he wanted to hear her voice again.

It took him a while to figure out he had to put coins into the slot (Bloody things!) before he got the general idea and managed to dial her number. The other line rang incessantly, but she didn't pick up. Instead, he heard a loud beep.

"Hi, you reached Emma..."

"And Henry!"

"Hello lad!" Killian replied happily. "Glad to hear..."

"We're not home right now..."

"But if you leave a message..."

"We will get back to you!"

BEEEEEP!

Killian pulled the receiver away from his ear. "Right..." He licked his lips as he placed the receiver back down, utterly confused. "I wonder if anyone in this blasted realm still uses the spoken word at all..."

This was going to be a doozy.

Then there was the matter with the two cops con horses.

Killian had established to steer as far away from trouble as he could; the last thing he needed was to wind up in a brig where he would not be at all able to come up with a feasible story as to his identity and his rather unusual garb. But from the depth of the park rode two police officers on horses, eyeing him rather curiously.

"Ah, bloody hell..." Killian muttered under his breath as he stood to leave.

"Hey! Hey you!" One cop shouted.

"The guy in the leathers!" The other echoed.

Killian stopped without turning his face and just rolled his blue eyes with a huff before finally turning to face the approaching cops.

As a pirate he was more than accustomed to being stopped in streets and alleyways for no particular purpose and he was rather amused to see that people were still people, regardless of the realm; especially annoying guardsmen... or cops.

"Afternoon lads." He said with his best smile.

"What are you, some kind of rock star?" One of the cops giggled.

_What the bleeding hell is a rock star?_ Killian thought as he simply shrugged. "Not especially, mate..."

"So, what's with the, uhm... attire, then buddy?" The other cop pointed down from his horse at Killian's leather trench coat. "You just got off the time machine, or what?"

_They have time machines?! _ He thought, and it must have shown that he was somewhat stunned, because the other cop sneered in his direction. "Hey... are you on something?"

"On.. something?" He asked, confused.

"You been hittin' the bottle, pal?"

Killian huffed and smiled again. "Gentlemen, I can assure you I have no clue what you are referring to, but if you mean to ask whether or not I am sound of mind, I can assure you that I am, and I am in the midst of a crucial quest, so if you don't mind, and if there is nothing else I might assist you with, I will be on my way..."

The cops giggled. "A quest... Does he sound sound of mind to you, Bob?"

"Naa... He's talking like some English pirate, or something."

Killian side grinned. "I can assure you, sirs, I am not English. I only speak the language. Mighty fine gift to the realms, that language..." _You got the pirate part right at least_, he thought, bemused.

The cops exchanged a wry look before turning to Killian. "The realms, huh? Fine. And just what's in your agenda today, pal?"

"Just..." He shrugged with a cheeky but sincere grin. "...looking for the love of my life. And what brings you fine gentlemen out here?"

The 'fine gentlemen' tag seemed to sit well with the cops. "Well... just doin' the beat."

"Ah, certainly, you are." Killian grinned, completely oblivious to the meaning of "the beat", and hoping they didn't mean it as a verb, or he was in great trouble. He was terrified out of his mind, but he maintained his usual calm and somehow seemed to be winning these guys over.

"So anyway, man, why are you dressed like that?"

That question was starting to get really irritating; Killian simply grinned and huffed. "I... like to dress this way, mate; it's sort of... who I am."

"You take retro to the extreme, pal!" The other guy laughed. "I have to say, the trench coat's really out of this world."

He chuckled and scratched behind his ear. "That, it is..."

The two cops exchanged glances once again. "You sure you're not drunk, buddy?"

"Stone sober, mates." Killian did a little balance shift on the tips of his boots. "Sound as a pound."

The cops now seemed more amused by this English guy with the leather, eyeliner and fake hand; Hook, meanwhile, was hoping they wouldn't notice his knees rattling.

"Well, good luck finding the... love of your life there, pal..."

"Actually..." Killian took two steps towards them, turning on the charm full jolt. "Maybe you two dashing chaps can lend me a hand, since... " he shrugged and smiled, looking at the fake piece. "...Well, you know..."

"Dashing chaps?" One smiled.

"Certainly! Any man who rides a horse and dedicates himself to the line of hero duty is dashing, by definition alone..."

"Well, I don't know about you Bob, but I am rather dashing myself..." The other cop laughed.

Killian nodded. _Bloody idiots_, he thought, smiling from ear to ear as he launched into one of his many performances. "Here's the thing, mates.. I sort of..." He winced. "...lost my boy to my former missus and... Well, she won't let me see him and I really want to win her back. His name is Henry... Henry Swan." He produced the torn page from the phone book. " Here, see? Emma Swan. That's my love's name."

One of the cops shrugged. "Well, pal, if she has a court order against you, there's not a thing we can..."

"Oh, no no no, she has none of the sort." He affirmed, and decided to use his best pirate act, one that always seemed to work with what he called, the feeble-minded, and that before ever meeting Swan and even believing he'd ever be a part of this, had gotten him laid plenty of times whenever a girl resisted his gorgeous charms."You see, I am rather ill..."

"Ill?"

"Aye. It is terminal."

The two cops' faces fell. "Darn bud, what a bad break."

"Aye, that it is..." Killian said, his eyes watering. "I just really... want to find my love, get her back from that... beast she dwells with..."

"Beast?"

"Aye. She left me for a monstrous being. And my boy, he... might believe his father abandoned him to his luck..." When Killian's eyes finally dropped tears down his cheeks, the cops were sold. "I do not... want to leave this realm without telling them both... how much I love them, at least." His voice broke. "The problem is, I have no idea where to even begin looking... This is such a... vast city. I may ave but a few days..." He swallowed a thick knot. "... and the sooner I get to them, the sooner they will know... "

Damn. Such a charming guy with such cool swagger and such a cool accent and such a cool attitude... That bitch.

The cop called Bob took the paper from Killian. "Here..." He nodded, pointing at the telephone Killian had indicated. "That's in Brooklyn."

"Brooklyn?" Killian sniveled.

"Yeah, from the area code... around the Flatbush area. You need to head south, friend, take the F or B lines, get off at either Prospect or Flatbush. The woman and your kid should be around that area."

Cleaning his eyes with a smile, Killian returned the chaste, gracious glare. "Just... what are these, F or B lines, mates? I'm not from this town."

"Here..." The other cop handed him his Metro Card. "It still has a few good trips on it."

"It's for the subway, buddy."

"Oh..." He smiled, wondering whether or not he'd survive this day in one piece. "Pray tell, where do I board this... wonderful train?"

"Over there..." Bob nodded his head over in the direction of a shaft that apparently led to some sort of tunnel. "Remember, either F or B, heading south to Coney or Brighton, you get off the train at either Prospect or Flatbush."

"Ok..." Killian produced a little scrap of paper from the map. "Prospect... or ..." He looked up at them. "You fellas don't happen to have a quill, do you?"

"I got this!" One said, producing a ball pen.

Killian sneered at it as he took it. "Yeah. That'll do..." He wrote down: Flatbush... Prospect." He then returned the pen to the cop. "I can't thank you enough for your kindness..."

The only person to have read clean through those final lines (spoken with a shaky, quivering voice), had been Emma Swan. Up until her, no one had ever been able to tell just what he was really up to with his angelic blue glare and shaky lower jaw. And these people were certainly not Emma Swan.

How he missed her then and there... even if that particular memory elicited being held at knifepoint and getting tied to a tree with ogres amidst.

The two cops greeted their new unlucky friend farewell and wished him all the best on his "quest". He really hadn't lied when he said he was out looking for the love of his life. And maybe also in part that thing about Henry being "his kid". He certainly wouldn't mind. But the rest...

"Muttonheads..." He smiled and wiped the remains of his fake tears as he turned tail and headed to the tunnel.

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The Captain stood around at least a good hour, observing people. He really didn't want to draw any more attention to himself, even if the outfit did that on its own. He watched and basically learned on sight how to use the card to get into the trains. Now that part really didn't represent much of a challenge; up on the walls of the tunnels were maps of the New York Subway system; and if Killian Jones was good at one thing, it was navigating. He zeroed on his route in a matter of seconds and grinned at the prospect of being closer and closer to finding The Savior. He entered the platform and tried his best to behave like just another guy heading out to lunch from work; perhaps he was an actor, or worked at a fair somewhere that required him to dress up like a pirate. At some point during the (arduous and far too fast for his stomach) train ride, a little boy saddled by his side and touched his leather getup, Killian turned his sickened gaze from the window and grinned at the boy. His mother (who happened to be quite an attractive brunette, to his delight) even took a photo of the two together.

God, he had mellowed over the years.

Finally, his train reached 15th and Prospect. Killian emerged like some victorious knight and once outside, he felt imbibed with the sights; something in him felt right... he knew she was close. Or at least now he had narrowed her down to a two mile radius.

Another park; He took a bench and opened his map, instantly locating his current location. His yearning gaze followed every single blonde woman who passed by and his heart felt a small pang every time, in view of the fact that none were his Emma.

"Where to now?" He whispered, leaning back on the bench, and simply took a few minutes to take in the sights. It was a peaceful park, some birds cluttered around the floor, picking at nothing, and he suddenly remembered that even Pirates had to eat.

He stood up and saw a man dispatching something to a lady from a trolley and wondered what it was about.

His stomach growled and he sneered, rubbing it as he approached the guy in the trolley.

"How you want it, mister?" He said in an even odder accent than his own.

"Well, I..." He scratched behind his ear. "I don't know... just... what are these things?"

The man gave Killian an odd sneer. "Dogs, man."

"DOGS!" Killian replied, wide-eyed. As a pirate, he sometimes relished far better on the company of either a cat, a bird or a canine, so the idea of eating a dog was actually beyond barbaric, even for a formerly bloody pirate such as himself.

The guy huffed. "Look, mister, you want it or don't you?"

"You have other amenities in your menu?" He sneered.

The guy shrugged. "I got falafel..."

"Those are not... Dogs, are they?"

The guy was looking at Killian like one would a crazy person. "No... they are falafel."

Killian shook his head. "This realm is far more barbaric than I thought. Just how much gold do you want for that... fala... fel...?"

"Five bucks. dude. Same as everywhere." He chuckled "What are you, some euro-trash?"

Killian had no idea what Euro meant; but trash? He stood an inch from the guy's face. "Look here, son: I am way older than I look, hungry, tired, angry and capable of things beyond your wildest, most morbid imaginary concoctions. Now, serve me my food and have done with it or I shall eat... your... TONGUE!"

The guy gulped and swiftly served Killian a falafel. The man was no less stressed when he asked for another one. When he was done, Killian extended the man's monetary gratification with the kindest grin he could muster up. "Thank you..."

The man pushed the trolley away. "Crazy, bipolar son of a bitch..."

At least physically sated (even though he now had the impervious need to relieve himself), Killian continued to pace around the area, looking for a glimpse of what could be his Emma.

As night fell, he realized he wouldn't make it back to his B&B before the sun was down... nor did he care to. He was close to her, he could feel it.

He was never one to feel too cold; so he found a nice bench in the park and huddled up underneath it, tucking his hand (fake and real) beneath his armpits and leaning down on the concrete floor, rolled up as much as he could beneath his thick leather jacket.

He closed his eyes and felt himself whisper. "Goodnight Swan..."


	4. Chasing Swan

Chasing Swan.

Captain Hook, the fabled pirate, the buccaneer, handsomest man alive, captain of the fearsome Jolly Roger, famed assassin of the seven seas... sleeping under a bench in a Brooklyn park for a week.

Still, he refused to budge. Swan was nearby, he knew that much. And it wasn't until he was asked by a local cop to kindly take to the shelter showers that he finally felt humbled enough. Like any well-formed sailor, he knew and valued the importance of hygiene, and the idea of reencountering Emma while looking and smelling like a homeless guy didn't give his odds for credibility too much of a boost. So he swallowed pride, accepted a bar of soap and showered accordingly.

Once out of there he made sure he was as far from the shelter as possible. Dignity first.

He was fast running out of money too. He sat and remembered in anguish his days as a child, where after being abandoned by his father at a dock far from home, he survived on scavenging and begging before taking to stealing and he truly didn't fancy becoming a pickpocket in New York City... Not after he had sworn himself a changed man. A lifetime of delinquency would NOT get the best of him any further.

Still, he was concerned when he had paid for his final falafel three days earlier. Being no stranger to the effects of starvation, he was far from happy.

As usual, he made his round in the neighborhood, taking second glances at all blondes around and hoping no one would report him for loitering, which was exactly what he was doing.

Just as hopelessness began to set in, the sound of laughter caught his attention: He turned and found a school bus of kids at a red light.

Children always lightened his heart. Since Milah, he had never quite seen himself fathering a child with a woman, but more than once he had glanced at Emma in Neverland and imagined her with his son or daughter in her arms; that thought alone was like getting hit with a bucket of ice cold water, the definitive moment when a man knows his heart is doomed to either find the perfect mate or be broken forever. And as his eyes ran the length of the bus, eyeing each little one with a happy grin, one face made him stop cold.

"Henry..." He gasped, standing suddenly and taking on heel speed as the bus sped away when the green light came. He managed to jump over hoods and honking cars, not getting run over (boy did he remember THAT feeling), trying his best not to lose sight of the bus. He caught breath at every stop and ran whenever the bus started to move again... and finally, the bus allowed Henry down.

Killian took his spyglass from his inner pocket and followed the boy with his eye as he entered the gate of a tall building apartment. He huffed with relief, and started his way to the main door... but stopped himself from his pursuit, a shock wave taking over him.

Emma was walking around the corner, cell phone to her ear, groceries bag in one hand, purse in another, looking as wonderful as ever, if not more, smiling and laughing, her gorgeous, golden hair bouncing up and down with each step she took.

She was as beautiful, as perfect and luminous as he remembered her. And he didn't know peace until that very moment, when tears threatened to leave his eyes as he whispered her name, "Emma..." an ear-to-ear smile cruising his face.

He'd found her... He'd cruised realms, let go off his home, the Jolly and forfeit his life as a pirate for this woman...

It was the last thing he saw before hunger and exhaustion from running at least three miles behind the school bus took over him. His view blackened and he gave in to the vortex beneath his feet as he fell to the ground, unconscious.

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"You all right there, buddy?"

Killian came to and found himself lying on a couch inside someone's home. He sneered and looked at the friendly face before him. It was a man, probably in his fifties, with hair almost as black as his own and a kind smile on his face.

"Wh... what happened?" Killian whispered, wincing.

"You passed out there, mister." The man chuckled. "Flat-out, pancaked on the ground. You've been sleeping all afternoon, I was about to call 911."

Killian tried to sit up, but his head was spinning far worse than with any bestial hangover he had ever endured in his 300 plus year lifetime. "I feel bloody awful..."

"It's no wonder..." the man chuckled. "My wife says she saw you run five blocks, pal." He reached behind him and produced a plate of turkey slices and potato mashing. "Not to mention you've been at the park for a week. Dressed in leather, starving and running around like a fool? Pff… Here..."

Starved, he was not about to allow his pride get in the way of his first decent meal in weeks; He literally snatched the plate from the man and grubbed like swine. To hell with all good form and etiquette! The man side smiled and chuckled. "Wow, dude, take it easy, there's more where that came from!" He narrowed his eyes. "You don't strike me as much of a homeless dude, there... for one, your garb, pal... why are you dressed like that?"

Hook could have sworn he felt the hair at the back of his neck stand on end at the sound of the same question, but the feeling of gratitude was far more powerful, so he simply ignored the question and continued to stuff his face. When he was done, he raised his big blue eyes to the guy and nodded gently. "Thank you..."

He was being his utmost sincere self when he said it, too.

"So… you have a name buddy?"

He nodded as he wiped his mouth. "Aye… Killian Jones."

The man offered a friendly hand. "I'm Toby."

"Toby?" Hook winced as he shook the man's hand.

"Yeah. I'm the janitor here…." He produced a cigarette and offered one to Killian. "Smoke?"

The prate shook his head. "No thanks, mate… never really was much of a lover of the leaf…"

"Huh…" Toby chuckled. "Good for you. Disgusting habit anyway, it's a miracle I'm still alive." After he lit up, he turned to Killian. "So, Killian… That sounds Irish. You a Mick? Your English is more like… from Cambridge, so…"

A Mick? Cambridge? Killian huffed, completely unaware what the hell the man was talking about, but he simply avoided the issue by grinning and nodding. "Aye…"

"Huh, so you're probably more of a boozer than a smoker, ha…"

_Now you're talking!_ Killian thought. "I have a sweet tooth for rum."

Toby nodded. "I got a flask of that shit somewhere… It was a present. Never touch the stuff…" He stood up and turned to look for it nearby while Killian thanked the Gods under his breath. Toby finally handed him the flask and nodded. "I know of a man's needs…"

"Looks like you have a fine head on your shoulders, mate…" Killian smiled fully as he opened the flask and took a swig; and after a week of abstinence, the raspy feel of his liquor of choice tasted better than it ever had before. "Cheers…"

Toby chuckled. "So, Killian, is it? How did you wind up a bum?"

Killian too another swig from the flask before closing it and sticking it into his pocket. "I've come a long way… looking for someone. I was told she lived in Brooklyn, which led me to these environs… alas, I did not know exactly where she lived… so I sort of… camped in the area."

"She… a dame…" he huffed and drew a large puff from his cigarette. "That will usually drive a man to drinking, that's for sure… So, all that running?"

Killian smiled. "I saw her son, in a yellow transport, with other children. So I ran after it."

"And that got you here?"

"Aye…" Killian nodded happily. "And then I saw her and now my life's woes are at an end…"

The man laughed aloud. "You haven't a clue what you're saying there, Killian… When it comes to broads, your life's woes have only just begun…"

Hook laughed with him and shook his head. "Aye, perhaps… but let's be honest, mate, we go there willingly." He sighed. "My life without her is… pointless, really. Were it not for the hope of seeing her again, I would have died weeks ago. She's my savior. I don't know…" He ran his good hand through his black, shaggy hair. "When you finally meet someone who takes you and uproots you completely to sort of… plant you in brand new soil, and you suddenly realize that you are much more than just… scum rabble; when a woman has that particular influence in your life, when she brings light and hope to an otherwise ineffectual and purposeless existence, well…" He smiled and tilted his head as he once again produced the flask and opened it. "I will gladly concur to a few of life's woes at her side." He looked to the floor. "It's a damn sight better than enduring them alone, I can tell you that…"

Toby nodded. "I can agree to that, mister…" He reached out for Killian's flask, and as the pirate handed him the bottle, Toby spoke again. "So, can I ask you a question?"

"You sated a hungry man, Toby, you are more than entitled to inquire to your heart's content."

Toby scratched his head. "You have a fake hand, there…"

"Aye, quite observant of you."

"What happened there, man?"

"A maritime accident, mate."

"Maritime?" Toby asked, wide-eyed "You're a U.S. Navy guy, or somethin'?"

Killian shook his head. "Alas, no… merely a captain of my own ship, which I sadly do not possess any longer."

"Ah, a freelance guy…"

Hook laughed a healthy laugh. "Aye, you could say that. Quite freelance."

"Is that why you dress like a pirate?"

The young captain sighed. "Aye. I do sort of love the swag, though, don't you?"

Toby laughed. "Does give you a touch of class…"

"Finally, a man with proper tastes!"

Both men laughed together before quieting down.

"So, this… chick you're lookin' for…" Toby licked his lips. "She pretty?2

Killian's face lit up. "Aye. Remarkably, more so than all the stars in the sky." He sat back and sighed, his eyes strayed in the image of his Swan as he painted her in his mind. "And she has a fire… she's no bloody damsel in distress, mate, she's… strong, willful, even. Terrible temper. But she does make the stars look brighter…"

Toby laughed healthily. "You are besotted there, my friend."

"Aye, indeed I am, won't deny it." He bit his lip.

"So, what does this no-bloody-damsel-in-distress look like?"

Killian smiled the whole time. "She's… slender, not overly tall. Long hair, golden like the sun. A perfect smile, a constant flush of red on her cheeks..." He sighed hard. "Her eyes, they speak from her soul. She's quite an open book to me. They shine bright, even on the darkest of nights and direst of toils… Green, mate. As green as a watered field…"

"Huh…" The man nodded. "Kind of sounds like our Emma…"

The Captain shot his face up at the man. "What?"

"Emma Swan. She's on the third floor…" He chuckled. "Quite the knockout."

Hook all but ceased breathing and felt he was probably bound to faint again. "You… know Emma Swan?"

"Of course we do." The man shrugged and sneered. "Told you. I'm the janitor. She lives on the third floor with her boy."

The man immediately noticed how Killian all but lost his color and he frowned as he bit his lip. "Ahhh." He nodded, the situation dawning on him. "So SHE'S your… "savior"."

Killian literally went on his knees, something he hadn't done since the death of his brother. "I beg of you…. Direct me there. Please! It's vital!"

Toby pressed his lips together. "Well…" He shrugged standing up. "I suppose I could let you up there… I like you better than that other guy…"

The sound of Toby's last three words suddenly made Killian's heart stop. "O…Other guy?"

"Yeah, some rich computer nerd she's dating. Ugly guy, stiff, a real snob. Never liked him." Seeing how the handsome sailor had suddenly frozen in panic, Toby laughed. "Now now, don't let that deter you, pal; you go get her! People who don't fight for what they want, deserve what they get and hey, you slept under a bench and starved for a week, Mick, I'm rootin' for ya."

Slightly more downhearted, Killian hoped and prayed that once she recovered her memories, she would see him and remember him… that kiss, that mouth-watering kiss from Neverland, his one single tactile memory of her, if she didn't respond instantly, he'd give it a go. He remembered the look in her eyes when they said goodbye… there was something deep, something that bound them together. His heartache fizzled at the thought of her being only a few stories above him.

"Yes…" he nodded, still put off but determined to win her heart the straight way, as he had promised. "I thank you…"

He was standing up when Toby stopped him. "Whoa whoa, you can't go now, pal, it's late! She's probably asleep by now! Listen…" The man winked. "Stay here, on this couch. The wife and I are cool with it. She's usually up around eight and takes Henry to the bus stop at around nine. So she's having breakfast at around 8:30… Give it a go then."

Killian knew he really could use a good night's sleep. She was there, practically breathing the same air as he was, so he'd definitely go there early the next morning. He kindly accepted Toby's hospitality and allowed himself to drift off into deep sleep.

He rose with the first morning light, found his way to the washroom Toby had indicated and followed the man's instructions: Third floor, door number 311.

He could feel his stomach twist, turn and churn as he reached the third floor. He looked in the direction of the markings on the doors and finally, he stood before number 311. He could hear music stemming from within and he swallowed deep as he closed his eyes and tapped on the door with his right fist.

Nothing.

He repeated the action.

The sound of soft, bare feet walking towards the door made his heart race.

And the door opened… to display the apparition of her… her whole self… His Emma.

There were no words in any language that would accurately describe the sudden joy seeing her again brought to his face as she looked on him, still clad in her night clothes and as beautiful as the morning itself. He felt an inevitable smile split his face and he had to fight not to cry before her.

"Swan… at last…"

….


	5. Jogging her memory

For every ounce of love and devotion in his eyes, the woman before him returned the gaze with a fearful, quizzical demeanor.

As he pushed forward to her, she raised her hand and stopped him dead in his tracks. "Wait... do I know you?" She asked, bewildered.

Short for words, Killian went straight into business. "Look, I need your help. Something's happened, something terrible; your family's in danger..."

Emma sneered slightly as she snapped back. "My family's right here, who are you?"

The pirate felt his knees weaken; that drive, that spunk of hers... how he had missed it!

"I'm an old friend..." He spoke, nearly a whisper.

He then thought up a plan; he had heard stories of different couples breaking curses through True Love's Kiss. If his suspicions were certain and she secretly felt for him the same way he felt about her, it would be worth a shot, especially since he knew how Swan was when it came to trusting people, let alone people who were, as far as she knew, perfect strangers. And from the look on her face, that was exactly what he was.

He'd go for broke.

"Look I know you can't remember me..." He bit his lower lip. "But I can make you."

He lurched forward and stole a swift kiss, and the brief second was heavenly until he was quite abruptly brought back to reality by the sudden thrust of her knee into his groin. A very hard thrust.

_Ok, that didn't quite work out how I had hoped_, he thought as he winced and fell back to the wall in pain, hands holding his crotch.

"What the hell are you doing!?" She exclaimed, completely shocked.

It was hard for Killian to muster up the words through gritted teeth. "A long shot... I had to try. I was hoping you felt as I did."

"All you're gonna feel is the handcuffs when I call the cops!" She snapped.

What was it with this woman and shackles?

"Look, I know this seems crazy!" He cried desperately. "But you have to listen to me! You have to remem..."

SLAM! Door shut in his face.

Recovering from the painful thud, Hook limped his way back to the stairs. "One down..." He mumbled to himself with a chuckle as he settled on the step to completely recover. "Bloody hell, Swan, haven't lost your touch now, have you?"

A few minutes later, he heard the sound of her door opening. "Nope, he's gone!" Came Henry's voice. Hook walked a few steps up and hid, looking behind a wall as Emma jostled with keys, purse, red jacket (not the leather one, but red all the same... that woman), cell phone and lunch bag. "Go on, you'll miss the bus!" She smiled at Henry.

As the boy passed by him, Killian remained unseen and was fortunate enough to catch the whiff of her hair as she passed by him. It made him smile to think that she had once voluntarily pressed his lips to his.

He'd make her remember. If it took pains and death, he'd make her.

Silently, he followed her to the bus stop, hiding behind trees, walls, posts and pillars. For someone with Emma's intuition, Killian was actually quite surprised that she hadn't noticed someone was following her, but was grateful for it. He blamed her lack of memory, the curse and the blasted, noisy surroundings. The city was sheer lunacy! Cars honking, lights flashing, people pushing other people around...

She reached her office and he was content to remain outside, waiting for her to finish her shift after long hours. He resumed his stalking as soon as he saw her coming back out; he was once again feeling hungry and thirsty and in need of a toilet, but he held out long enough to walk behind her as she headed back home.

Like the day before, he halted a few yards away and saw how Henry arrived first and then Emma followed. He knew that going back in after them would probably be a first-hand invitation to get busted by whatever order guarded this city, so he just waited out. Once again, he sat around, cold, shivering...

At around eight, she emerged... And was she a sight for sore eyes! "Leather, Swan?" He smiled to himself. "Bloody hell..."

She wore a short dress in black leather with the same long, red jacket he had seen earlier on her. But Killian felt a slight tinge of panic when she suddenly boarded a taxi.

He managed to stop one for himself "Follow that car, please.." He commanded as the cabs followed each other into Manhattan.

As the car ahead of him finally pulled over, Killian observed in silence as she stepped out.

"That'll be 65.50, buddy..."

"Oh, yeah... hang on..."

Without any ceremony, Hook used his hard-as-steel left hand on the man's neck and he fell instantly unconscious. "Sorry about that mate, strenuous circumstances..."

He walked out and stood around no more than twenty yards back, watching her as she walked into what seemed to be some sort of Inn or Tavern, with people dressed far too elegantly for the likes of his Enchanted Wood pirate style. She sat at an outdoor table...

And Killian Jones felt the bitter taste of bile when he saw that she was joining a man... and she kissed him. Gently. On his lips.

So THAT was the other guy!

"Bloody bastard…" he hissed under his breath as he looked at them through his spyglass. "Bloody fuckin' bastard…"

In spite of himself, he knew there wasn't much of a battle to fight there; Emma Swan's memories of him had been encased in a curse and placed in a vault inside her mind where only the potion in his pocket was the key. As far as she knew, she and the pirate had never met, let alone made out in the middle of the jungle.

But how to make her drink from the small vial? She hardly trusted her own shadow…

From across the street, Killian stared at her, leaning against a tree, waiting for his chance. And when the "other guy" stood up and left Emma alone at the table, he made his move.

The woman was texting a message, a calm and happy grin plastered on her face; Killian wasn't sure if he was pleased with the beauty of her demeanor or if it infuriated the hell out of him, considering it was addressed to "the other guy". He sat square across from Emma.

"YOU!" She jumped.

Killian raised his hand. "I can explain…"

Emma gasped. "You are a stalker!"

"Look, don't scream, just hear me out…" He begged as she slowly reached for a meat knife by her side. "I don't do this very often, so treasure it, love…." Emma stared at him expectantly and Killian closed his eyes. "I've come to apologize…"

"For trying to kiss me?"

"I was simply trying to jog your memory…" He pleaded.

She stared him square in the eye with that passion he knew so well. "It's time for you to go. Now."

"Emma, your parents are in great danger."

"You REALLY don't know what you're talking about." She replied calmly but firmly.

Killian nodded. "Because you think you're an orphan, and that's haunted you your whole life?" He held her stare as she furrowed her brow and let her guard down slightly. "Well, I'm here to tell you that everything you believe is wrong."

She looked back into his cerulean eyes. "You don't know me."

"Oh lass, I know you better than you know yourself." He mumbled softly. As he reached into his pocket, Emma clenched her hand tighter around the knife. "I have proof…" He said, before producing a little piece of white paper. "Here… take a gander."

On the paper was a written address; one that he had gotten during his research of Emma and Neal's numbers. Being unlisted, she had been much harder to find, but Neal's squatting joint was all too easy.

"Here's an address. If yu want to know who you really are, who your parents are… go there."

"Leave. Now."

"You've been there before, a year ago… you just don't remember."

"A year ago I was in Boston." She affirmed dismissively. "Till a fire destroyed my apartment and I came here to have a fresh start with my son."

Killian chuckled at the irony; Swan, the savior, the slayer of dragons, the one who had shed the light on how to defeat pan, realm traveller… running from her apartment.

"Regina really did a number on you…" he grinned, nibbling on his lower lip.

"You're a crazy person… or a liar, or both." She sat back, shaking her head.

As it was his way, Hook responded with a typical sassy line that would have normally made her at least grin and roll her eyes. "I prefer 'dashing rapscallion'…" When she only glared at him with a cold, daggered stare, he raised an eyebrow. "Scoundrel?"

"Give me one good reason not to punch you in the face…" she grunted, her eyes dark.

He held her angered glare. "You really don't believe me? Then try using your 'superpower'…" she frowned and leaned back, probably wondering how he knew that. "Yep…" He nodded. "I know about that. Go on, use it and see that I'm telling you the truth…"

She looked into his eyes and for the briefest second, Killian saw a glimpse of that stare she had given him in Neverland. The line "You can't handle it" played in his head like an orchestra. Finally, Emma sat back. "Just because you believe something, doesn't mean it's true…"

_Well, at least she can see I'm not a liar_, he thought.

"May be, maybe not… but I know you, Swan. You sense something's off. Go to that address; take a chance. Then you'll want to talk. When you do, I'll be in Central Park, by the entrance to the zoo…"

By now, her expression had gone from anger to incredulity, as if she were seriously pondering his words.

"Don't do it for me…" He quipped, looking at her from beneath his brow. "… or for you. Do it for your family. They need your help, love."

And then, as swiftly as he had sat himself down, he stood up and left, leaving a quizzical expression on her face.

At least he had planted the seed of doubt. It had to fall into place… it just had to.

He crossed the street to Central Park and took one final look back through his spyglass. He nearly tumbled back when he saw the "other guy" down on one knee. The air left his lungs and he could have sworn his heart was being ripped out his chest, a feeling similar to that when the Crocodile had dug his hand deep in his flesh to grab the thumping organ.

"Oh, no…" He whispered, his hand trembling. "Emma… don't… Please, don't…"

Suddenly, she stood up and stormed out of the place, looking confused. Killian laughed a loud cackle and closed down his spyglass. "That's a good girl…" He nodded. He then positioned himself behind a tree and observed as "the other guy" caught up with her outside and exchanged some words with her. "Yes, she turned you down, you smarmy sod…" He continued to whisper to himself as he saw first hand how Emma tried to explain her behavior. He knew her too well to know that she was taken aback and was, as he remembered, scared as hell of formal relationships. He swallowed hard as the pair ended their evening with a soft kiss from him on her forehead. "get your bloody paws off of her…" He hissed again, before Emma stepped into another taxi to get back home.

The dice had been cast; Hook knew it was only a matter of time before her curiosity got the best of Emma Swan. She'd come back to him. She'd always come back to him….

And he would always go back to her, to be there, to find her and help her, wherever she might be. For now, it was just a matter of waiting… and starving again as he found himself another unsolicited bench in the park.

No matter; he could brace the cold and famine… she was worth it.

"Hey... hey buddy!" A homeless gut tapped on his shoulder. "Spare a dollar, buddy?"

Hook shrugged. "Sorry mate... I have none."

"Y'all always sayin' that, goddamn cheapskates..." The bum groaned. "Go on, pal, a dime?"

He pulled Hook by the shoulder and the pirate shook himself lose. "I'm telling you, mate, I have no gold on me as of present time!" He groaned. "Now leave me be!"

The homeless guy sneered at Hook, his breath reminding the Captain of wayward nights and drunken binges. "Fine then, you cheap asshole..." He ran his eyes up and down Killian's garb. "Why the hell are you dressed like that?"

"Umph..." Killian growled with gritted teeth rolling his eyes as he turned around and started his search for a decent bench for the next night... or two, no problem.


	6. Bologna

Two nights exactly he spent in Central Park waiting (hoping) for Swan to show up. He knew her well enough to believe that deep down in her heart, she remembered him, their kiss, her family, how she had come to be in New York and the small town where her son had lived, as opposed with the barrage of fake memories Regina had kindly implanted in her to spare her and the boy the pain of knowing she'd never see them again... him.

He was weak once more... hungry, cold and sleepy. But he had endured far worse during his years as renowned Pirate Captain Hook Jones. A pirate's life is fairly tough... but he knew that no pain, no ache in his three hundred plus history of piracy, love and revenge, could have matched the agony of not having her by his side, so he preferred struggling to survive a few more days in this blasted city, whether or not she remembered him; just as long as she was within a ten mile radius of him.

It was early one morning when she showed up, anxiously pacing in his direction. His heart skipped a few beats as he smiled at her. "Swan! I knew it would work, it's good to see you again!"

And he meant that... it was more than good. Even if her dour expression heralded a dire time ahead.

"Why didn't you tell me that was Neal's place?" She snapped.

She was clearly annoyed; as far as she remembered, Neal was the jerk that had knocked her up and left her to her own means as she struggled with an eleven month jail sentence, which should have been his; he was the bozo who had made a complete fool out of her and carelessly escaped to Canada while she raised their son through blood, sweat and tears. She'd obviously believe this strange, oddly dressed individual with the handsome, begging eyes and the unbelievable story about "her family" was likely a friend of Neal's, trying to pave the way for the father of her child to oil his way back into their lives. Defensive was an understatement.

"I think the tone of your voice answers that quite clearly..." He spoke calmly. "You never would have gone there if I had."

"what does Neal have you up to?" She challenged, "Is he trying to get into Henry's life? How does he even KNOW about us?"

"I've already told you; I'm not here because of Neal." He returned the intensity of her gaze with aplomb. "I'm here because your family is in trouble, your parents' entire kingdom has been cursed! Ripped back to Storybrooke..."

"Wait, what are you talking about?" She winced at him. "My parents? Their kingdom? A curse? Do you know what you sound like?"

Killian pondered for a few seconds and felt decidedly embarrassed... and hurt. Not because of her words, but because of how blatantly she had forgotten it all... how she truly had no clue about what he was saying and how important and unique she was in this entire situation. She was as much of a stranger to the notion of curses and stories as he was to her, and knowing that made his heart wrench into a prune.

"Like a madman, I'm sure..." He sighed, looking to the floor and trying hard not to appear much too vulnerable. he then raised his face back up to her eyes, pleading. "But it's all true. Your parents need you, and you're the only one who can help them..." Emma rolled her eyes and he shook his head. "...If you don't believe me at all, why did you come here?"

"Because Neal..." She shuffled through her bag and produced a camera strap. "...has a camera with my son's name on it! HOW, WHY!?" She snapped.

"Don't you see? That is the proof of what I'm saying!" He insisted. "Henry must have left it in the apartment when you were in New York last year!"

"Not good enough." She replied dryly. "I want answers. Real ones."

Hook swallowed hard and licked his lips, knowing the moment of truth had come at last. "There's only one way you'll get those..." He reached into his vest pocket and produced the small bottle that had been attached to the bird's leg. "Drink this."

"Drink the thing the crazy guy just gave me? No thank you." She spat back.

"It will help you remember everything you've lost." He begged. "If one small part of you senses that, don't you think you owe it to yourself to find out if I'm right?"

Emma remained silent, studying his face, and in spite of her relentless questioning, he knew that the coils in her head had started turning. It wouldn't be easy... but she'd end up believing him.

He spoke, his gentlest tone of voice, as he implored for her trust. "What do you say, love? Take a leap of faith, give it a go."

After she stared into his eyes for a few seconds, he was starting to hope she was actually giving him the benefit of doubt... until she reached out and handcuffed his hand. "Call me love again and you lose your other hand." She pulled him down and cuffed the other end of the shackle to the park bench.

"Swan, what are you doing?"

"I'm making sure you never bother me, or my son again." She then whistled out and two cops emerged from behind a statue. "This is him, this is the guy who assaulted me. "

Killian looked and felt slightly horrified to see that these were the same cops that he had all but duped a few days earlier with the story of his "terminal" disease. All the more, he was very distraught to hear her accuse him of assault, when that kiss had been meant with every ounce of love his heart had been able to muster, a kiss of true love, at least on his part.

"It was a kiss!" He explained, all innocence, as the policemen cuffed his hands behind his back.

"There! He confessed!" She grinned coldly.

"You're under arrest for assault and criminal harassment, sir..." The cop he knew now to be named Bob started saying. "You have the right to remain silent... "

"Swan, please, you're making a mistake!" He beseeched her, his biggest fear of getting locked up in this city without a single document to prove his identity, maybe even winding up in a lunatic asylum for his harebrained story of realm-crossing and pirates and curses. His panic rose as she walked away. "A terrible, terrible mistake!" He tried to pry away from the cops, until he finally shouted in despair. "SWAN! YOUR FAMILY NEEDS YOU!"

She never stopped, not even to look back at him.

He'd lost her once again... and his heart broke once more.

"I... I need you... Swan..." He whispered, hanging his head low.

"All right there, buddy." The other cop shook his head. "And you even had us pointing you in the direction of this woman a week ago, man, shame on you... Stalker."

He posed no resistance as they walked him away through the park, all eyes on the "guy that got busted".

The cop called Bob placed his hand on Killian's head as he led him into the back of the police car. "And here we thought that you'd be dead by now..."

Killian sighed deep and finally, a wayward tear ran its course down his face. "I will be..." He whispered.

H&E&H&E& H&E&H&E&

In the jail cell, Killian lay, curled up in a ball on the mattress. He'd been imprisioned before but he had never felt so alone, so utterly lost and downhearted. She really didn'0t even hold a single ounce of hope; that fire inside was completely snuffed out. His Emma, the fierce savior, the woman with the resilience of a thousand men and the wit of a pirate, the curse-breaker and realm cruising lady of his every dream, was gone from inside of her. "Why?" He whispered, tears still falling from his eyes. No sobs left his chest, no hope for the future... for even though he truly believed in her and her power, he knew that while she remained stoic and cold, she would never remember. "All for nothing... all that... for nothing..." He whispered on.

She'd go on and marry the stuffy guy from the restaurant; he'd raise Hnery as his own and she would have that man's babies instead of his. She would die an old lady, completely unaware of who she was and who, he knew, she could really rely on... and hopefully eventually get to love. All that was gone.

"Hey there, Jones..." The cop called for him.

He didn't even turn his head.

"It's been three days, Jones. You haven't touched a meal..."

He was quite aware of that. He was already halfway starved. Perhaps, if he stopped eating altogether, he'd either die or pass out and the ache would all but cease. Whichever came first.

"You all right in there, pal?"

Still no answer. The sound of the cop's voice sounded more and more distant. Praise the sea goddess Ursula.

The cop huffed and opened the jail cell with his key and walked to Killian, who didn't even budge when the cop, one hand on his gun and another on his forehead, huffed. "Guys!" He called out. "The pirate guy's fainted! We might need a paramedic!"

That was the last thing he heard before waking up, still in his jail cell and handcuffed to the bars, with a serum drop in his arm. He groaned and tried to pry away from the steel bar, but was still far too weak. They had removed his leather trench coat and ripped the sleeve of his one good shirt... his only shirt, actually. He turned his head and saw what he clearly recognized as a medic.

_'Blasted doctors, all wear white no matter which realm..._', he thought as he leaned back.

"Hey there." The doctor grinned. "You got a death wish, buddy... You look like you've not had a meal in a week."

"That's quite perceptive..." He mumbled.

"Listen..." The doctor grinned kindly as he adjusted the drop. "...whatever it is that has toiled you to the point of starving yourself to death? Not worth it."

"Completely worth it." Killian replied dryly.

"Naa.." The doctor smiled. "Listen, we might have to call the psych department on ya, buddy. Seeing that this is actually more of a suicide attempt than a legitimate situation of unintentional famine." He sat back down. "You don't want that, do you? To wind up in the looney bin?"

That was actually a fate worse than death.

"No." He replied.

"Good." The doctor grinned. "So... what led you to this? Stalking a woman and starving yourself to this point?"

He swallowed hard and realized he had to actually cooperate if this horrid, new enclosure was to be his home for the rest of his days. He sighed. "I've lost her... forever..."

"Well, there.. there's plenty of fish in the sea..."

"No, you don't understand. She's my savior, she... there is no other like her. Literally, mate, I'm not talking in euphemisms, here."

The doctor grinned and nodded. "Just... why are you dressed like that?"

Killian huffed and smacked his head back against his pillow. That question again. "That doesn't really matter now, does it?"

"Look, you look like a fairly handsome guy, you look like you have your wits... You're letting yourself go over a woman?"

Killian chuckled. "Like I said... she's not just a woman." He turned his huge cerulean eyes to the doctor and for a second, the MD actually felt the man's pain. "She's unique. Believe me when I tell you, there's not another like her in this entire world... or in any other, for that matter."

"Wow, sir... you really are in love with this lady, aren't ya?" he chuckled. "We all feel that way about that special someone."

"Matters not..." He averted his gaze to conceal the tears that threatened to show once more. "She has no recollection of me..."

"No recollection?"

"She and I... we've been through the mill together. I know her like nobody in the world knows her... but... something happened. Her memories are gone... She does not remember me. It's futile."

"Selective amnesia?"

"Beg pardon?"

"Yeah. It's a pathologic impairment of memory. Amnesia is usually the result of physical damage to areas of the brain from injury, disease, or alcoholism."

Killian huffed. "It's a bloody curse..."

"Yeah, and then some." The doctor sighed. "So you do actually know her?"

"Yes. Emma Swan. Daughter of Mary Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan, grew up in the foster system in Boston, has a twelve year old boy, Henry, fathered by a man named Neal Cassidy. Former bail bonds person..." he resorted to the memory implant Regina had given her that he had learned from talking with her at the restaurant. "...came over to New York when her apartment in Boston caught fire." He grinned. "She loves grilled cheese and hot cocoa with heaps of cinnamon..." Tears finally rolled down the sides of his face as he continued. "She wears the ring her boy's father gave her around her neck because he let her down and let her do jail time for something he did and she doesn't want to forget. She sleeps with her eyes ever so slightly open and sometimes even whispers in her sleep. She is strong, willful and stubborn, but kind-hearted, loving and...- He grinned. - ...a bloody great kisser."

The doctor chuckled along with him.

"I have to know something, Mr..." He read from the file. "Jones..."

"Killian... or Hook, please..."

"Hook?"

"You might have noticed my left hand's missing?"

The doctor laughed. "Clever. I bet that came from bullying..."

"Aye." Killian agreed, not wanting to enter into debacles over the true origin of his name; that whole Loony Bin thing was really quite unappealing.

"Ok, Killian, I have to know something: If this woman is in trouble, as a doctor I need to verify her condition. Selective amnesia is no joke." He sat up. "I can pay her a visit."

"Wish I could help you..." Killian swallowed. "Alas, I have no idea what the precise address is. I could walk there, but I honestly don't know what the streets are named, nor do I have any recollection of the number she resides in."

The doctor clucked his tongue. "And getting you to take me there is going to be a bit hard with you in here..."

"Aye."

"So..." The doctor side-grinned. "I take it you're the boyfriend..."

Killian grinned. "Something of the sort..."

The man nodded. "Listen, all you've said to me will be taken into account when we trial you. Seems to me you're on the level."

"That I am... alas, I see no reason why I should be released, mate..." He said as he sat up, feeling much better. "The woman thinks of me as an attacker, and a stalker. She hates me..."

"Not as much as you think, buster..." Came a cop's voice from the cell door together with the sound of the keys opening the jail cell lock. "You made bail. That pretty blond lady paid it."

It was strange to see how color returned to his face as a smile crossed his lips. "Emma..." He whispered, and he stood up, jerking the needle out of his arm.

He was stopped by both the doctor and the warden. "Let me go!"

"Sorry, sir." The doctor pulled him back and sat him on the bed. "We can't legally let you out like this..."

"Like what?"

"You're starved, man. You gotta eat something before you go or you'll be passing out around the curb and then WE will be accused of brutality." The cop shrugged and turned back to produce a plate of something that looked... well, dead. And ghastly. And worse than Jell-o.

"What the bloody hell is that?" he sneered.

"Bologna." The cop nodded.

"Ba-lo-ney?" He replied raising his eyebrows.

"Yep. Bologna. Got more back there, if you like..."

"I'm not putting that into my mouth, mate."

"Well, we're not letting you out till you do... _'mate_'!"

Killian huffed and suddenly tried to make a break for it. The cop stopped him by the door and before Killian could deliver a decent thud on his face, the doctor had pretty much injected something into him.

The Captain felt dizzy once more and fell back on the bed. "What... is...?"

"Sorry, Killian." The doctor shrugged. "It's for your own good... come on." He cut up the meat and took a forkful to Killian's mouth. "The sooner you get this done, the sooner you can go with your little lady..."

Groggy and sickened by the appearance and smell of the luncheon meat sitting before him, Killian huffed. "She'd better bloody remember me... Bloody fucking hell, she'd really better bloody remember me soon."

So he opened his mouth and allowed the doctor to feed him the sickly, pink meat. Not one hour later, he threw it all up.

Two hours later and once he had been equally force-bathed and cleaned, they handed him his personals (it was good to be back in his leathers) and he frantically checked for his memory potion. He was profoundly relieved to find it still sitting in his vest breast pocket... as well as the flask of rum that had been kindly given to him by Toby, his rings, his necklace, his earring and his hand. His hook had been quite cleverly concealed in one of the many secret pockets his leather trench coat offered and that had, for many years, served many purposes for piracy and smuggling.

There was a reason he loved that thing.

He clicked his hand back on to his brace and looked up into the sky as he stepped out of the precinct; breathing in the open again was a welcome feeling after three days inside.

"Hey!"

That voice... he instantly turned his face to her, a beacon for him, every time.

"We need to talk!" She said, looking both alarmed, scared and serious as all hell.

"Oh, Swan!" He smiled as he paced down, wanting to run to her but still a little too weak to do so. "I knew you wouldn't let me rot in that cage! I've been in my fair share of brigs..." he held his finger out at the precinct door. "... but none as barbaric as that! They force-fed me something called _'ba-lo-ney'_..."

Emma hardly paid any attention to what he said; she just produced a set of images (the ones he had known before, while in Storybrooke, called photographs) and flashed them, one by one, before his face. It was a series of images of her and Henry in Storybrooke, at the airport with Mr. Gold and at Granny's, the little diner she had cherished so much for it's unique hot cocoa. "What the hell are these?" She spoke in angst. "We never lived in a town called Storybrooke, we never took a flight from Boston to New York, we never did ANY of this!"

"So you believe me, then?" He nodded.

"I don't know! You could have photoshopped these!"

"Photoshopped?" He sneered, wondering if perhaps this time she was the one starting to soujd a little insane.

"Faked..." She huffed, seeing in his eyes that he really was honest and had no clue what she was saying.

"If you think these are forgeries, then why did you spring me from the brig?" He shook his head. "Because as much as you deny it, you know that something's wrong, deep down you KNOW I'm right."

She started to look more concerned for her own sanity than angry. "It's impossible... How can I forget ALL of this?"

"I promise you... there's an explanation."

"Not one that makes sense." She stubbornly stated.

_'Give in already Swan!_', he thought, as he once again produced the little blue flask. "If you drink this... it all will."

Emma looked hesitantly from the flask in his hands to his eyes and swallowed hard. "If... IF what you're saying is true, then I have to give up my life here!"

"It's all based on lies!" He insisted.

"It's real!" She looked so hurt and scared that Hook nearly allowed himself to hug her hard. "And it's pretty good! I have Henry, a job... a guy I love!"

That last line had Killian swallowing hard and he needed to rememeber to breathe. It felt like a swift cut into his gut.

"Perhaps there's another you loved in the life that you lost..." He said, almost breaking down, and it was plain for Emma to see he was probably talking about himself. "Regardless..." He composed himself and continued. "If you want to find the truth, drink up. Do you really want to live a life of lies?"

By now she was looking so distraught that his voice also began to crack.

"You know this isn't right, Swan!" He said, looking around. "Trust your gut, it will tell you what to do."

Emma froze. "Henry always says that..."

"Well if you won't listen to me, then listen to your boy..."

There was something in the way this man was looking at her that made Emma shudder inside. There was a lot of hope, worry and even... No, not that. She sighed and hesitantly took the tiny flask, ingesting its contents.

As the memories started to stir in her mind, she swooned and Killian reached out to steady her, feeling terribly unsteady himself. He held her by the elbow as she convulsed mildly, memories flooding her mind... and a few seconds later, she opened her eyes again.

Killian stared expectantly... and when she spoke "Hook..." with a breathy sigh, he smiled once again.

That other Emma was frail and unaware; this one could take his flirty grin; it was his Emma again.

"Did you miss me?" He winked.

But when her face fell instead of smiling, he lost his cheeky grin. Tears sprung into her eyes. "I... I didn't raise him... Henry... I didn't keep him. I left him! I turned my back on him! I abandoned him!"

The hurt of seeing her remember that particularly painful episode cut through him like a knife. He hated being the one to cut these wounds open again. She looked at him and, out of nowhere, simply threw her arms around him. "You bastard... It's good to see you again, you pirate son of a bitch..." She wept, a mix of emotions flooding her. "Killian..."

He held her as she wept into his chest, trying hard to remain steady on his feet and saying nothing as he simply allowed her to fall into his embrace. Much as he hated the sight of her aching this way, he also relished in having her in his arms. He closed his eyes and sank his face into her shoulder.

As they pulled away, he grinned at her and cleared the hair away from her messy face. "Come now..." He smiled. "Welcome back, Emma..."

And then he was the one to swoon.

"Whoa whoa!" She steadied him, snivelling. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Ba-lo-ney..." he shook his head and took his finger to the spot between his brows.

"And before that?"

"Last week? Maybe less, I don't know... "

She huffed and cleaned her eyes. "Really?"

"I'm fresh out of your realm's currency, Swan. Can't believe how pricey this bloody city is..."

She grinned a sad grin and chuckled as she held onto his arm, for mutual support. "Come on..." She started walking. "Let's get to my place and get you something to eat..."


	7. I came back to save you

**I came back to save you.**

She bailed him out somewhere between twelve and one in the afternoon. It was now nine at night and he still hadn't woken up. He'd practically finished the lunch she concocted and when she saw he was too embarrassed to ask for more, she simply grinned and made some more instant soup. The color had come back to his drawn cheeks and he then grew increasingly sleepy after the copious meal. He had settled to sit up on a couch, but Emma felt touched by the sight of him in his uncomfortable leather garb and boots, so she told him to lie down, grabbed him a couple of blankets from the trunk / coffee table and allowed him to lie down fully to get some proper rest.

She knew first hand just what an exhausting experience realm crossing could be. God knew how long he'd been in New York, chasing after her, sleeping in the streets, starving... She made a mental note to subtly hint that he was free to use the shower too as soon as he woke up.

Emma studied her pirate friend as he slept, looking at his every feature, the way he breathed, his occasional mumbling as he stirred and shifted positions, sniffing, sighing, snoring softly... Had his eyelashes always been that dark and long? And his scruff was decidedly gingerish as opposed to the pitch blackness of his hair and eyebrows. What the hell was that about? She then looked at his hand and came to realize just how beautiful it was. Strong, square, long fingered... and his trademark rings. She wondered if he could paint, draw or do art with that hand. He then tucked it under his jaw and settled again with a sigh. The cutthroat rascal looked almost angelic, it had to be said. Had he always been so darn handsome? It also hurt her heart just a little bit to see his collarbone sticking out. He'd definitely lost weight. She tilted her head sideways, memories of his love vows flooding her memory: _"Didn't think I'd find anybody else, that is until I met you", "When I win your heart Emma, and I will win it, it will not be because of any trickery; it will be because you want me", "I've yet to see you fail", "Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it", "There's not a day will go by where I won't think of you"..._

That last one made her heart skip one beat; he'd come all this way for her, god knew what he'd been through... but he was there, starved, but alive. She grinned and pulled the blanket up to his shoulders, and found herself unable to resist musing his hair away from his forehead. God, he smelled bad, but something in her made her feel warm as she touched his black tress. And as if on cue, as soon as her finger grazed the silky strand, he grinned in his sleep and softly uttered, "Swan..."

She took two steps back and shook her head. What the hell was she thinking? What the hell was she doing?

She hadn't remembered him until a few hours ago, so her feelings regarding his being there were rather confusing. How could she have missed someone she didn't remember? But apparently she had. More like, remembering she hadn't seen him in a whole year made her miss him and be glad to see him again. She huffed, coming to realize that this man and all her family had been engraved so deeply in her spirit that, no matter what spell befell on her to make her forget, they would always re-emerge in some form or another. He would certainly re-emerge... and then the memory of her knee on his groin returned to her and she hissed, wincing. She made another mental note: Apologize for neatly depriving him of having any progeny in the future.

She sighed and grinned at him. "Stupid pirate..." She whispered.

The phone rang; Henry was on the line, telling her that he was getting taken home at midnight by his friend's dad. That would give her enough time to enjoy her romantic dinner with Walsh at ten. Dinner with Walsh, and Killian Jones in her living room...

Life had just gotten a little bit more complicated.

When she returned to the living room, she saw him sitting up on the couch, elbow on his knee and rubbing his eyes.

"Feel better?" She grinned, leaning on the door frame.

He shot his eyes up at her and found her grinning at him. "Immensely." he grinned back. "Thank you, love. I needed that." He yawned and stretched. "Best sleep I had since I got here..."

"When was that?" She chuckled.

"Oh... must be about a month now..."

She sighed, closed her eyes and shook her head. "I don't even want to know where you've been at this whole time, Hook..."

"Good. I had no intention of discussing that particular plight." He stood up. "Might I ask one more favor of you, Swan?"

"Sure..."

He swallowed. "Might I... use your lavatories? I know I'm far from presentable now."

She grinned at the sight of him blushing humbly at his request and was instantly relieved she wouldn't have to hint that he needed a bath. "Yeah, sure." She nodded and tilted her head, motioning him over. "This way."

She gave him a towel and a bar of soap and showed him which tap was hot and cold before leaving him to bathe in peace.

While he showered, Emma produced two glasses and a large bottle of rum; things needed discussing and even she knew no one was better at both listening to her as well as making things clear to her as Hook. And the two of them had generally bonded over the rum in his flask, so it seemed fitting to meagerly toast over their merry meet-cute.

When he emerged, he was dressed back in his leather but looked a damn sight better... and smelled a damn sight better too. She grinned from the table and blinked. "A world of difference..."

"Indeed." He nodded and sat across from her with a kind smile plastered on his face. "Thank you, love... I realize I must be sort of a... surprise to you now."

"Yeah, you are, but still... I'm sorry you had to go through all that." She shook her head. "And... " She winced. "I'm sorry that I... you know.."

"Don't be."

"No?"

"It's been a whole bloody miserable year, Swan." He sighed, suddenly noticing the two glasses atop the table and the bottle in her hands. "Seeing you again as you opened that door was the best thing that has happened to me since that dire moment you drove out of Storybrooke..."

She grinned, flattered. Apparently, his resolve was still set. Talk about steadfast!

"I'm still sorry I kneed you that way. I just didn't expect that kiss." She looked up into his eyes. "Took me entirely by surprise."

He side-grinned and lowered his gaze to his lap. "Yes, well... I suppose I didn't think that thoroughly enough..." He blushed. "I'd placed all my hope on a hopeless kiss." He raised one eyebrow and looked at her with a mischievous grin. "It was worth what little time it lasted, though..."

Emma grinned back and chuckled sadly.

"So... what have you been up to this past year?"

Killian closed his eyes and shook his head. "Just the usual... and you?"

Emma frowned. "Holding back?"

"Let's just say that the past year is not a subject I'd like to remember or discuss, Emma." He shrugged.

"Well, I gotta know why the heck you came back." She replied softly. "I thought Regina's curse was permanent."

"Aye, that it was, love." He sighed, staring at the bottle in Emma's hand. "There is, however, only one thing that can counter-curse such a powerful malediction..."

Emma's lips parted in realization. "Another curse..."

The pirate nodded silently.

Emma huffed and ran a hand through her hair. "Talk to me, Hook..."

He sighed and nodded. "We arrived at the enchanted forest. Nothing had changed. Even your parents looked exactly the same way they had twenty-eight years earlier, like time hadn't passed at all. Your father had blood on his shirt from fighting off to save you and your mother wore her birthing gown, her hair was long..." He bit his lip. "Regina was the Evil Queen."

"And you?"

"Same... save for the red velvet vest. I'd missed that one." he chuckled sadly. "We were greeted by a princess called Aurora and her bow..."

"I know her." Emma nodded kindly.

"Aye, she knew of you too. She was rather heavy with child. But when they all decided to head back to the Queen's castle, I..." He shook his head.

"You what? Couldn't put up with Snow and Regina's bickering?" Emma chuckled.

"No, love. Snow and the Queen settled their differences. Frankly, I was bored. I had a life to get back to; a pirate's life."

Emma huffed and unscrewed the top of the bottle. "Glad to see you hadn't changed..." She chuckled sadly as she poured drinks for both.

The sadness in Hook's gaze immediately made her regret her words; but as always, he remained a gentleman. He reached for the glass and leaned on the table, his eyes dark. "There wasn't anything for me in the Enchanted Forest. Why should I have stayed?"

Emma wanted to talk back, but she had no words, no defiant speeches; the love the guy had for her was just undeniable. He noticed her hesitation and held his glass out for her to gently clink it with hers.

He twirled it and saw that she gulped half of it in one go. He could understand it was probably a bit hard to juggle with two sets of memories and it ached him to see how her happy, idyllic little life slowly crumbled back into reality. Much as she would have chosen to be told the truth over the fantasy, it wouldn't be an easy transition.

He sighed and sat back. "So, all was well... Till I got a message, a message saying that there was a new curse. everyone would be returned to Storybrooke. The message told me... that the only hope..." He held her stare with his huge, blue eyes. "...was you."

Was he really capable of this? Of crossing realms for someone other than himself? What had happened to the self-centered pirate she had known before?

"So you came all the way back to save my family?"

He continued to look at her and blushed insanely. "I came back to save YOU." He then took the drink and finished half of it.

Emma was no longer able to sustain her stare and she hesitantly looked to the table, trying to sip the remains of the drink she had just emptied in a single go. "Who could have done this?" She mumbled.

"Someone powerful enough to reach into this world..."

Emma gave him a _'thank you Captain Obvious'_ gaze end sighed. "Any more specific thoughts?"

"Alas..." he sighed with a sad grin. "You are the savior, Swan, not me." He finished his drink.

There was a brief silence, cut only by the sound of traffic below. Emma grinned sadly. "You know who I was yesterday? A mother, Just a mother. Till you show up to start poking holes into everything I thought was real..." The wayward look on her saddened gaze broke his heart. "Taking that potion was like waking up from a dream..." She looked into his eyes, the saddest smile on her face. "A really good dream."

Killian thought he'd cry any minute if he didn't say something.

"Well, you have what matters most... your son." He said kindly.

"Now I have to figure out how to explain this to him..." She replied, her eyes etched with deep concern.

Killian sighed. "Alas, I could only salvage enough of one doze of memory potion..."

She nodded gently, her gaze now fixed on his hands. Her voice nearly broke. "I'd better start figuring out what I'm going to tell him."

The peace was interrupted by the sound of a buzzer. Killian turned to the door. "Who's that?"

When he turned back to her, he knew by the sight of her alone, that this was probably his rival. "Walsh..." She replied, swallowing tears. "Henry invited him."

He wanted to save her the pain of confrontation as he turned around. "I can get rid of him..."

"NO!" She stopped him firmly.

Killian didn't even dare look back into her eyes, feeling the hurt grab at his heart like some sort of hungry lion. Emma continued talking sadly. "My memories might not be real... but he is. And so are the eight months we spent together... I owe him an explanation."

It ached him immensely to think of it; Eight months! Eight months of loving this man, kissing him, holding his hand, being in his embrace... maybe even undertaking amorous congress. His heart was about to implode, to the point where he was completely unable to look her in the eye.

As she walked around him and reached for her jacket, he rubbed his jaw. "What are you going to say to him?2

"I don't know..." She replied, heartbroken. "But I care too much about him to drag him into all this." She looked at him and a tiny shadow of what could have been the saddest grin in history traced her lips. "Wait here."

As she left the apartment, Killian allowed himself to release his emotion. He turned his head down and cursed under his breath as he reached for the bottle again, pouring himself another drink. "Eight months... eight bloody months.." He felt tears sting his eyes as he gulped the drink back, and cleaned them off with his sleeve. "And while this bastard's holding her and loving her and bloody fucking her I'm about to walk a bloody plank..." He looked back in the direction of the door and walked over to it, locking it, only to turn and let his body fall back on it, sliding to the door and sobbing miserably. "Eight months, Swan..."

He thought of her happiness with this man and how that joy could have been his to give. He hated what this was doing to her, how her little dream life was just that and her reality was a far less attractive one: A one handed Pirate with a drinking problem, Pan had said. What could he offer? The Jolly was gone, so a roof was certainly not a guarantee. Money? He had none, he was practically a new bum in New York by the time she remembered him. And a peaceful life was certainly out of the question, what with her being the savior from another realm where dangers were always a door away.

Oh, but he had all the love in the world. That was for sure.

_'Not enough, Jones... not hardly enough'_, he thought, winding himself up more and making the flow of tears heavier and more painful. As a younger man, he had had idealistic dreams of reaching a position as captain under his brother, who would be Commodore by then. He'd make a name for himself in the navy, get a fine property and meet a decent lady that would be kind, lovely and gentle... and who would give him a family. Children he could love and cherish and provide for, under a single roof: A large garden were all could run and play and he could dote them with that which he had been cheated of as a child himself: A loving family.

Thinking of that, he now more than ever understood Emma; reality was quite an opposing situation. When had life taken such a drastic U-Turn?

Such were his musings when he heard a loud crash and the most hideous form of screeching and screaming.

Like lighting, he was out the door and rn up the flight of stairs like he had seven legs, opening it to find Emma looking shaken, staring down the edge of her building, to the ground four stories below.

He was at her side in less than a second. "SWAN? What in blazes was that?"

"A reminder... that I was never safe. All I wanted and though I could have was apparently not in the cards for the savior..."

The seriousness in her voice made Killian realize Emma was once again rebuilding her emotional fortress. It hurt. She gave him a stern look. "We leave in the morning."

She pushed past him and went to the door. When Killian didn't join her, she turned back around. "You're not coming?"

The pirate sighed and took a look around him. In spite of his ache and the sacrifices it had taken for him to survive long enough to get to her, the night sky was a sight. "It is nice here, Swan..." He chuckled sadly. "I think I'll spend the night here." He turned to her and Emma thought she imagined his eyes to be a little... red. "Incase whatever monstrosity tried to attack you decides to have a second go..."

"You don't... want to take the couch?"

"I'm fine here, love." He nodded confidently. "Just need one of them blankets you lent me before and I should be well. Besides, I don't really think it's good form for the lad to come home and find a ... pirate, sleeping on the couch. That would raise a few questions, wouldn't you agree?"

Emma sighed. "There's only a hard bench here, Killian, I..."

Surprised at the sound of his name, he turned to her with a smile. "No matter, love. This is a fine better bench than the ones in Central Park." He nodded. "I'm fed, bathed... and a damn sight better than before. Besides..." He nodded. "You're here. That's what matters most. I'll be fine. I'll be tapping on your door at o'eight hundred sharp, is that suitable for you?"

His determination startled Emma, who nodded hesitantly. She sighed. "I'll... bring you your blankets. A pillow?"

"That would be nice."

"Ok... Be right back."

Not one minute later, she was back with a bundle in her hand. Killian took them from her and trned his kind face to hers. "Thank you, Swan."

"What for? You're sleeping on the friggin' terrace..." She shook her head, not wanting to meet his gaze out of embarrassment.

"Emma..."

Like him, her name on his lips sounded almost unreal to her, and she looked up to meet his gaze. "Thank you for remembering. Your memory of me is good enough... for the time being."

The legitimate kindness in his eyes startled her. She grinned and squeezed his arm. "No.. thank you... for bringing them all back."

"See you in the morning, Swan..." He nodded.

"Ok..."

She closed the door behind him and headed back down the flight of stairs.

Her apartment suddenly felt a whole lot emptier.

She sighed as she removed her jacket and reached for the glasses left on the table. When she looked up to a photograph of her and Walsh in Disneyland, she was slightly horrified to see the images of Walsh slowly fading into nothing. She, like Killian before her, allowed herself a small space to break down. She reached for a chair and sat before her knees gave way, the glasses falling from her hands and smashing on the floor. "What... the fuck... was that?" She sneered, tears stinging her eyes and adrenalin withdrawal getting the best of her. She suddenly wished for the leather-clad Captain to be there to hug her, even if jus mind game. Or maybe not. "Seriously, WHAT THE HELL!" She screamed.

She was simmering down when she heard the rustling of keys by the door. She turned sharply and wiped her tears as Henry hummed through the passage.

"Hey kid..." She stood up and walked to the kitchen. "Be careful, I dropped a couple of glasses there."

As Henry looked to the floor, she took the photo where Walsh had once been and shoved it face down on the counter.

"Everything ok?" Henry shrugged and narrowed his eyes when he saw hers. "You cried..."

"Just a little.." Emma grinned.

Henry heaved and dropped his schoolbag, and simply ran to his mom to hold her. "I'm so sorry, mom..."

Henry had arranged for that dinner between his mom and Walsh to finally settle whether or not she'd marry the guy; it was plain to see it would not happen now. Emma held on to her kid with a vengeance, praying he wouldn't notice her knees were rattling.

After he had gone to bed, Emma sat up in her own bed, wondering whether her family above her remembered her at would be painful to return to Storybrooke to find out the curse had taken their memories, like last time. She really doubted Regina had cast it, especially since Henry would have been her primary goal and would not have been dumb enough to send a message to Hook if Henry were to not remember her.

So who the hell was behind all this?

She sighed and turned the lights out as she stared into the skyline by her window... "Good night, Killian..." She whispered as her tired eyes fell shut.

Above her, wrapped underneath his blanket and his head leaning on his borrowed pillow, Killian Jones also lulled himself with the wondrous sight of New York City's night lights. He grinned. Even with the guy apparently attacking Emma, and with all the heartache the process of making her his would take, he was pleased to be in her life again.

"Good night, Emma..." He whispered, as his eyelids finally gave in.


	8. Finding Home

His internal clock never failed him. But the night had proven a tad colder than expected and despite his rest and the delicious meal he had had with Emma, Killian was still not entirely himself, health wise. Nonetheless, at five minutes to eight, his eyes flew open, and he was pleased to see a blue sky above his head.

Emma was a reality now; whatever his ailment, he'd recover.

He stretched out as he sat up and took in a large amount of air into his lungs. He looked around for evidence of a beast returning in the night; he was normally a very light sleeper, being a captain and all, but he was still weary and weak so the night's rest had done him a world of good. It would have been unlikely for him to wake up if the Salvation Army Band itself had marched by his nose the previous night.

He stood, and stretched again, wincing in pain as he reached his right hand to his left shoulder; it had been giving him trouble since his awkward landing after crossing the portal.

Looking around, he zeroed a large water deposit and a tap. He made a beeline to it and collected some water on his hands , enough to wash his face and straighten his unruly black hair. He immediately afterwards checked for smell. He was still good to go. Perhaps Swan could offer him some salt, always effective to make most body odors disappear, although he had to admit, her strange bathing substances in colorful bottles were a damn sight more pleasing to his nostrils; maybe he could convince her in allowing him to shower quickly again before leaving.

He whistled as he stepped down the small flight to her apartment and his nostrils picked up the smell of eggs in a pan.

"Breakfast… Maybe that too..." He sighed, and tapped on her door four times.

Ten seconds later, Emma opened the door and a small grin with a whispery "Hi" welcomed him, as he pushed himself off the wall and walked past her.

"You ready, Swan?" He smiled fully at her as he passed, looking around him at her apartment in daylight. In truth, he was pushing forward to take a proper look at Henry; he'd sort of taken to the boy, being Emma's son, and had looked forward to seeing him again as well.

Emma looked slightly flustered as Henry stood before the leather-clad figure of Killian Jones. The boy took more than one look at his attire, dumbfounded. Killian, on his part, was incredibly pleased to see the young boy again and he managed to take a whole body gander, admiring how much he'd stretched in a single year. He was starting to turn into a man and he looked forward to the possibility of maybe one day serving as at least a friend and hopefully, a father figure.

"Henry… this is… erm… Killian, I'm helping him with his case…" Emma grinned uncomfortably.

The boy frowned at Killian. "Did you skip bail?"

"Well, he's still a little spitfire!" Killian chuckled at Emma, who only smiled back kindly at the pirate.

Henry shook his head mildly. "Still?"

"He's not a perp, he's a client." Emma explained to Henry.

Henry took another long look at Killian and wrinkled his nose. "Why are you dressed like that?"

Bums, cops, janitors, doctors and thieves had asked that question to him one too many times. "AND WHY ARE YOU DRESSED LIKE THAT!?" He snapped back at the boy.

"Al right, all right…" Emma stepped in, knowing that if she didn't cut through the line of fire, she'd have two bickering twelve year-olds instead of one. "Just… make yourself useful Killian, and get our bags. Henry, why don't you lend him a hand?"

Killian stared daggers at the boy; he may have been Emma's son, but he had had enough with that damn question. He huffed as he bent over to grab a large bag from the floor. "Lend a hand… very funny, Swan…" He muttered under his breath as he and Henry took the bags out the passage.

The leather clad pirate walked out the door and held it open for Henry, looking back into the passage as the boy walked past him, dragging another bag. "And your mother?"

"She said she needed to get something else, she'll meet us in the parking lot."

They stepped into the elevator and Henry pressed the P button.

"Sorry I snapped at you, lad." Killian shook his head.

"Ah, 's ok." Henry shrugged. "I suppose it's a free country, we're all allowed to dress whichever way we like."

"Indeed." Killian grinned.

"But seriously, why do you? Honest, no offense, it's actually really cool."

Killian turned to the boy. "You think so?"

"Yeah. You look kinda like a pirate, or something."

The Captain chuckled and looked to the floor. "Let's just say I truly connect to the clothes I wear, lad. They speak volumes of who I am."

"Oh, well, that's ok." Henry nodded as they reached the parking lot. The doors opened and he looked up at Killian with a frown. "You look kind of familiar."

"I do?"

"Where you like… a friend of my mom's from when I was a baby, or something?" He dragged the bag out and Killian followed him. "I could swear I've seen you before…"

Killian grinned. "Aye, something along those lines, lad."

Henry nodded and walked to the car. The Captain stopped and gasped mildly. "Bloody hell…"

The angst of seeing her, his Swan, and a younger Henry climb into the yellow vehicle and drive out of his life hit him, head on, like a tidal surge. Henry simply opened the front trunk and dropped his bag while Killian seemed to have frozen solid.

"Hey…" He heard her voice from behind.

Following her voice, he turned and saw her, the Emma he remembered, in her red leather jacket. Clothes were an identity, he reasoned, and Savior Emma Swan in her red jacket was a close memory of the woman he had bid farewell to, his heart broken, shattered to a million pieces, a year earlier. Seeing her like that was the missing piece he needed to bring at least most of his aching heart back together.

"Are you ok?" Emma frowned.

"That vessel…" he looked at the Beetle as Henry sat himself in the back and proceeded to retrieve his PSP from his backpack. "Will we be driving to Storybrooke in it?"

"What's the matter, captain?" She grinned, teasingly. "Roadsick?"

He chuckled. "No. Don't know. I've never really been in one of these contraptions for more than a few minutes. Is it a long ride?"

"About thirteen hours… but we'll be stopping around." She looked back at the car and then back at him. "He doesn't remember anything…."

"Well," Killian scratched his ear. "He did just tell me I looked familiar…"

"He did?"

"Aye. He wondered if I was, perhaps, a friend of yours during his infancy. I just said it was something of the sort."

She shrugged. "It's not exactly a lie…"

"Indeed." He looked down and licked his lips.

Emma looked at him through narrowed eyes. "What's eating you, Hook?"

He sighed and looked back up at her; his eyes were shining, although he didn't really shed any tears, and the sheer amount of emotion in his gaze actually cut her deep. "The last time you boarded that thing, Emma… Was the last time I saw you. I had thought that it would remain so, that I'd never again have the pleasure of gazing upon your face. So…." He licked his lips. "…I'm sure it's all the same to you, Swan, but… you can't…. you have no idea, what it's like to see you again, for you to remember me." He grinned. "That's all."

Emma was slightly stunned. The line 'It's all the same to you' was clear indication that that was the impression she gave off: Of a woman who cared nothing for him, who would never see him as anything else but a wretched, perverted Pirate with enough innuendos to fill up a pinata. She turned to look at the car, and remembered him, his words and the ache in his eyes, looking much like they did now, as he said that not a day would pass where she wouldn't be in his thoughts. She knew at that moment, that year back, that he was far more than an important pawn in a game of chess. He was a friend… someone who knew her even when he didn't, someone who had always been there and was now here, for her, finding her, starving and sleeping in the streets for her sake.

He seemed, at that moment, the only human being true to his word… and his heart. As always, the idea that Hook might be important to her frightened her. She wasn't blind, the man was gorgeous, charming, a gentleman… and adored her. If she wasn't careful, he could easily become the next man to break her heart.

Even if she knew he never would.

She smiled and gently squeezed his arm. "Come on, pirate, let's get this show on the road."

Killian nodded with a hesitant grin. "Aye. Let's."

They boarded the little bug and drove out, away from the building.

That day Killian Jones learned a thing or two about traffic jams, crossing lines, pedestrian rights, road signals, red lights and highway exits. And it amused Emma to see him literally grabbing hold of the arm rest for the first hour of their trip; speeding the Jolly Roger on water had been one thing, but to the 18th century Captain, 65 mph was a direct challenge against life itself.

She played some music and that also seemed to delight Hook, who spent another hour of the trip fiddling with the tuner. More than once he bit his tongue from asking Emma what magic device made musicians small enough to fit into the actual stereo. Henry would think him daft if he had voiced that particular doubt out loud.

After three hours, Emma looked slightly tired. "Might I suggest we stop a while, Swan?" Killian suggested.

"Yeah…" Emma agreed, doing circles with her head. "I could use come coffee. Hey kid!" She looked at Henry in the rear view mirror. "Wanna stop for some cocoa and pie?"

"Cocoa and pie and no school. Wow, what did I do right?" Henry chimed from behind.

Emma noticed Killian grinning and looking down… and licking his lips. She grinned. "What's your pleasure, Killian? Some pancakes?"

During his brief stay at Storybrooke a year earlier, Emma had introduced that particular delectable to him and he had pretty much become a fan of them. She was startled to discover she remembered every single detail of his first reaction upon having the first bite.

Killian shot his eyes up at her. He really wasn't used to taking things from anyone, let alone Emma. She was a lady, a princess, no less, and he felt like some jagged beggar at her side. All the same, he knew it was kindness on her and perhaps… hopefully…. A little more than that. He didn't hope for love any more; the still visible bruise by his groin attested to that. But affection, perhaps? Aye, that would be enough.

He nodded.

Emma instantly picked up on his thoughts. Seemed that neither of them had lost that particular skill with one another.

They pulled in at a diner and left the car, all three of them stretching limbs. Henry turned to his mom. "I really gotta go, mom…"

"Run for it, go!" Emma smiled, and Henry ran into the diner. Not three seconds later, Emma and Killian walked in. "Well, this is familiar…" Killian grinned as he looked around. "They all look like Granny's, do they?"

Emma chuckled and took a seat at a booth while Killian took the opposite side. Instantly, a waitress approached them. "Mornin' sugar!" she smiled at Emma and then turned to Killian.

It didn't take a genius to notice how the air was caught in the waitress's chest when Killian looked at her. The girl smiled and blushed as she bit her lower lip. "Well… sir, good morning to you…" she smiled.

"Good day to you as well, love…" Killian replied, unavoidably turning on the charm.

Emma frowned.

"What will it be?" She produced her little notepad.

"I'll have a grilled cheese sandwich." Emma sighed. "An apple pie and a cup of hot cocoa…. Lots of cinnamon."

"Pie… cocoa… and cinnamon." The girl echoed, not even looking at Emma as she jotted down. "And… for you, sir?" She turned her face up to smile at the Captain, who smiled back.

"Have you blueberry pancakes?"

"We do indeed."

"Aye, well, I'll have those."

"Will you… be having coffee?" the girl took her pen to her lower lip, still smiling and swaying side to side.

"Don't mind if I do…"

"And for your… lovely wife?"

"Oh, she's not…"

"I'll have coffee too, thank you!" Emma cut in, kicking Killian under the table and staring daggers at the girl.

The young waitress turned to look at Emma and then at Hook, and after confirming her phrase had a certain weight of veracity, her face fell and she just nodded with a grin. "I'll get your order right away…"

Emma turned to Hook with a frown. "You're flirting with the waitress?"

Killian shook his head. "Nonsense, love."

"You were totally flirting with her!"

"Emma, SHE was flirting with ME, I was just being kind."

"She was a child!"

"I noticed."

"So?"

"So…"

"So what was it with the smiling and teasing and…"

Killian laughed aloud. "You're mad, Swan. I've no more desire to cohort with that girl than I have to ever return to the Enchanted Forest." He looked at her with a mischievous side grin that was so Hook-ish it made Emma's inner butterflies flutter to life. "Why, if I didn't know any better, Swan, I'd say you are jealous."

"Don't be ridiculous." She sat back. "I just don't appreciate the company of someone who's willing to get it on with the first waitress that hits on him."

"You're being daft." He wrinkled his nose. "I am escorting you and master Henry back to Storybrooke. I've no intention of straying." He turned his face to the menu. "What sense would that make, with all I've done to get here?"

He hated himself instantly for having said that.

Emma leaned into the table. "And what would that be?"

Killian raised his blue as sky eyes to her and sighed. "I've no wish to dwell in the past love, you saw the state I was in. Let's just not."

Emma nodded and sat back again. If there was anything she understood about Hook was that he would very much start talking when he felt ready to do so. Now was not the time.

Boy, were they alike.

"On the other hand…" he placed the menu down and looked at her. "I am dead curious to know what the bloody hell was that, last night."

"What?"

"You went up to the terrace… with your beau." He swallowed a little bit of bile before continuing. "And I was there, waiting, when I heard all that… god-awful screeching noises and what sounded like a scuffle. What exactly happened there, Emma?"

Emma sighed and bit her lip. "Not sure I want to talk about that, either…"

"You do realize, love, that whatever beastie came after you might still be after you? That he, whoever he really was, might be tailing us? My lost year is of no importance any more love, but I think it fair for me to know at least what we're up against, don't you?"

Emma looked up into his eyes; he didn't seem annoyed or even remotely demanding. He just had that same trusty, puppy-eyed look that just begged for some understanding. She felt her eyes fill with tears and one unavoidably fell down her cheek.

Killian leaned back and sighed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry love… I really don't want you to cry, I mean, I just need to…"

"No, you're right." She sniffed and wiped her tear from her face promptly. "I'll be fine, I'm used to getting my hear broken."

Killian winced. "Emma…."

"It looked like a monkey."

"Come again?" He sneered.

Emma sighed, composed, and looked at Killian. "A large monkey, with sharp teeth, tail, large claws… just creepy, nasty son of a bitch. But…" She sneered at the memory. "It had wings."

"A… flying monkey?" Killian raised his eyebrows, shaking his open hand in her direction, in an attempt to fully grasp the concept of that particular monster.

Emma nodded. "It's as good a description as any, I suppose…" she sighed and folded her arms on the table, sinking her face into them. "Oh, god…" she raised her face up at Killian and looked utterly disgusted. "Killian, I was canoodling with that guy for eight months, and all this time, he was… he was… this thing!" She shook her head and didn't notice Killian's cheeks flushing red. "He asked me to marry him, even! What the hell!"

"You had no way of knowing love." Killian forced himself to sound kind and understanding.

"So, whatever's causing this curse… has had me under his or her watch for all this time."

"Seems that way…"

She looked at him. "We have to stop it."

"I have full faith in you, Swan." He grinned at her. "You're one bloody amazing lass, we'll figure out who this foe is, what he's after… and then we'll defeat him."

She grinned at him. His confidence in her hadn't waned, either, it seemed. The phrase "I_'ve yet to see you fail_" echoed in her memory as she received an equal grin from him.

The order arrived just as Henry returned to them. Nothing else was uttered regarding that matter.

The rest of the drive was uneventful. Henry was asleep by the time they reached Maine and all the while Emma and Killian conversed, mostly about shallow subjects: her job, her fight with the landlord over being able to have a pet, Henry's school and his crush on the girl from the second floor, the time she was asked by a talent scout to become a fashion model (she had to do a bit of explaining to Killian what that was about and he seemed both intrigued AND delighted by the concept of a woman like Emma posing in her undergarments), her afternoon hangouts with her new friends… and of course, her relationship. She confessed that she knew something was off and hence, she didn't really feel it was right to accept getting married to him. On his part, Killian limited himself to sharing his adventures from the moment he arrived in New York. Emma was both amused and horrified at his encounter with the thug, thinking he might have gotten killed. She felt heartache when he spoke to her about finding a decent bench in Central Park and braving the harsh cold of the New York nights.

She no longer knew what to feel.

They arrived in Storybrooke somewhere around ten at night. The drive had been long and weary and Killian had actually barfed at least twice before he had finally gotten accustomed to long land journeys. This was a long way from horse-drawn buggies.

As Emma drove through the streets of Storybrooke, she was both pleased and scared to be back. Nothing, not a damn thing had changed. The neon light that flickered at the gas station was still flickering; the three busted light bulbs at Granny's diner patio were still sitting busted on their cable. All holes, bumps and marks on the streets remained the same. "Holy crap…" She hissed as she looked from side to side.

She pulled over in front of the "Modern Fashions" store (that was anything but modern or fashionable) and she and Hook emerged, with Henry still snoring away on the back seat. She looked around, astounded. Her last memory of the place had been enveloped by a cloud of purple smoke. "It's really back…" she gulped. "I'm really back!"

She felt Killian come close to her left. "As quiet and homey as you remember?" he said with that deep, comforting voice of his. Or annoying… whatever.

"As cursed as I remember." She swallowed. Feeling Killian was as always, invading her personal space, she turned to him and took a step back in shock, seeing he had replaced his prosthetic hand and his hook clicked as he set it in its stead. "Ah, now that's more like it!" He mused her hair with it. "Isn't it, Swan?"

She grimaced and then looked back to her sleeping son in the car. "And how are you going to explain THAT to him?"

He laughed and turned to look at him. "Ah, that's more your concern." He looked at her and shrugged. "Perhaps it will jog his memory."

"Or give him nightmares." She replied harshly.

He giggled and pressed his lips together. God, how he'd missed her…

Emma looked around and huffed. "The last time round, this curse took everyone's memories. This time?"

Killian shook his head. "I don't know what it did."

Emma nodded in acknowledgement. "Well, I'm gonna find out." She looked up at him. "Stay here and watch Henry. Don't wake him…" she shook her head. "… Or scare him. Just… let him sleep."

"Aye." He nodded as she walked past him. "And where are you going?"

She turned to him, confidently. "To talk to my parents." She grinned, and then turned back to walk in the direction of the loft.

Killian stared at her figure as she walked away, the night-lights of the town shining down and returning the image in a silvery-black contour of the Savior, the woman he loved more than life itself. He followed her with his eyes and grinned to himself. "Welcome home, Emma…" He whispered. "Welcome home."

Ten minutes later, henry stirred awake. Killian turned swiftly and removed the hook faster than he could say ahoy. He peered through the window of the car and smiled at the boy. "Evening there, mate! We've arrived!"

Henry groaned and yawned before looking around him. "Where's my mom?"

"Oh, she's erm… she's…" He scratched his ear. "She's gone to meet the clients that asked her to come."

"I thought that was you."

"Aye, we all are." He nodded. "She'll be back shortly."

"Who are her other clients?"

Killian nodded and finally opened the door to sit in the driver's seat, his feet still touching the pavement. "Their names are David and Mary Margaret. You'll like them. Pleasant enough folk, if I do say so myself."

Henry sat up. "Do they dress like you do?"

Killian chuckled. "I think not. Why are you so smitten with my clothing, lad?"

"I told you, it's kind of cool. All leather… kind of like a rock star."

The imagery in Killian's mind instantly portrayed a star like the ones he'd mapped across the skies for ages, only made of rock. He assumed instantly that that was probably not what the boy referred to, so he simply nodded. "Aye, sort of like that. I like it."

Emma returned with a smile. "Come on… we're staying at the loft tonight, Mary Margaret and David remember everything…" she turned and saw Henry was awake. "They're … well, they're old friends…"

"Killian said they're clients."

"Yeah, well that too." She nodded with a grin. "I.. erm… I did jail time with Mary Margaret. So we know each other pretty well kid. Now, come on, a little help with the luggage…"

As Henry left the car and opened the trunk, Emma approached Hook. "Mary Margaret's pregnant…"

Killian raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Well! Congratulations, swan, seems you'll cease to be the sole heir to the throne!"

"Hilarious…" she chuckled. "The thing is, they don't remember when that happened."

"What?"

"Yeah…" she sighed. "To them it's only been a day since I left…."

Killian furrowed his brow and nodded as he looked to the floor. "So… the curse didn't erase all their memories…"

"Only the ones from the last year." Emma completed, her lips pressed. "That's convenient."

Hook sighed. "Do you think Regina….?"

Emma shook her head. "I have my doubts. Why would she delete Henry's memory? If anything, she'd make him remember only her, but trust me, he does not remember her… or anyone."

Killian nibbled on his lip. "We have our work cut out for us, it seems."

"Yeah, I've told them Henry has no memory, so they should be able to not get too emotional around him."

"Good. Might I then suggest I don't stay with you?"

Emma frowned. "You're not?"

"Might be too crowded, we don't want to confuse the lad. As a matter of fact…" He stood up and stood inches away from her face. "Maybe you should decline that invite, love, and find a room at Granny's for you and the boy."

"Why?" She sneered.

"Do you really think it will be possible for your parents NOT to show too much emotion right now?" He looked at Henry and then back at her. "We can all have a meeting tomorrow, love, for now, we should all just get some rest."

Emma pressed her lips together and raised an eyebrow. "And I suppose that you staying there as well has nothing to do with this particular proposal…"

Killian gave her a dour look. "You may say what you will about me, Emma… but I have never crossed my limits with you nor do I intend to ever stop being a gentleman with you. I resent that remark…."

Emma sighed and nodded. "You're right, I'm sorry, I just… ugh, this whole thing… in two days…"

Killian swallowed. "I know, love. I know."

"You're right. Maybe it's better."

After Emma returned from telling her parents that they'd be staying at Granny's, they all headed that way. She and Henry got the room overlooking the garden while Killian settled for a single room all the way up top. After Henry entered the room, Emma and Killian remained outside in the hall.

"I could really use a shower." She grinned.

"As could I…"

She grinned at him and turned around with a nod, just as he turned tail and headed up the stairs.

"Wait! Killian?"

The man turned at the base of the stairs. "Yes, love?"

Emma walked to him and gave him a hard hug. "Thank you…. For being my memory. For bringing them back to me."

He sighed and returned the affectionate hug. "It seemed like the right thing to do, Swan."

She pulled away and nodded, before turning around and heading back to the door. "So… she said, turning around to him. "Nine o'clock tomorrow?"

"Aye, I'll be ready."

She nodded and grinned at him once more. "Good night, Hook." And having said this, she finally disappeared behind the door.

Killian stood there, still feeling her body pressed to his, fitting so perfectly… he swallowed and nodded back, whispering into thin air before heading to his room. "Good night Emma. I love you."

After his shower, he lay back on the bed, nude and ready to settle comfortably, like he hadn't since he had traded the Jolly. He pulled the covers over himself and sighed as he stared at the shadows playing on the ceiling. There was an indelible grin on his face as he removed the brace to his hook and placed it at his bedside, rubbing on the stump with his right hand to ease the markings it left on his skin day in and day out. She was home.

Mission accomplished; he was now officially on his way to being a hero… hopefully they would all see him as more of a man than a pirate.

Or just her. That was all that mattered.

With the memory of her hug still fresh, Killian closed his eyes and slept with an adoring grin plastered on his face. He was bent on finding Swan…

And he had.

CSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCS

The witch had been defeated. She had travelled through time and returned. Neal had passed away, Rumplestiltskin had gotten married and she had a brand new baby brother. But the hardest trial had not been Zelena or her little Marty McFly adventure. Nor was the blistering cold blizzard raging all the time in Storybrooke.

Finding her home had been a lifetime adventure and being here, admitting to the world that she was tired of running, that she had found her niche, had been harder. It had taken aches and pains for her to acknowledge that this was her place in life… and now, all her fears were crawling back under her skin. Loving people and being loved always carried that risk along with it: You can lose them, any day, any minute, any second.

Emma woke up in the middle of the night, sweating. "No… NO!" She panted and felt tears sting her eyes as she slowly felt a single hand reach for her shoulder.

"Hey, hey… shhh.." came his soothing whisper. "It's a bad dream, Emma…"

She turned to him, desperate to find his blue gaze beside her, as always. "Killian…" She fell into his embrace, weeping. "Killian…"

"I'm here, Swan…" He kissed her forehead. "All is well, darling, there… shhh…" After holding her for a few brief seconds, he looked into her eyes. "What was it this time, love?"

"It was…. Henry… and you…." She still sobbed. "…Zelena, she was…. She was out ripping hearts and she… she…"

"It's only a nightmare, Swan, Zelena's been defeated for ages now." He cleaned off her tears with the back of his hand.

"It was so real…" She sniffed.

He grinned. "No, my love… This is real…" he leaned in and kissed her gently.

Emma's breathing regained its normal speed and she placed her open hand on the side of his face before breaking apart with a smile. "Yeah…" She sniveled with a grin. "You're always real. You're always here."

"Told you I'd never leave you."

"You never have." She swallowed. "I just… I'm terrified."

"What of, my love?"

she sighed and looked up into his eyes. "That you might suddenly realize that I'm a bit out of my mind…" she chuckled, feeling silly. "And that you might realize that you miss the Jolly too much and might just… join the merchant marines, or something…"

"Emma…" he grinned, holding her face between one hand and one stump. "You're my home. Where would I go? What would I do? Merchant marines? Now that is just silly, my pet."

"Or that you might die…"

Killian furrowed his brow. "Now what's this nonsense?"

"Graham died. Neal died…" she shook her head. "That's just like them leaving me, only worse."

"Well, poor sods couldn't really help it, could they?"

She raise her eyes to him and looked legitimately pleading; Killian was crushed by the sight of that gaze, the gaze of the lost girl she had seen while first climbing up the beanstalk.

"Don't ever die on me, Killian… I'd never make it out of that one…." She sighed and leaned into his shoulder. "I love you too much."

He sighed and caressed her hair. "As do I, love, you know it. Alas…" he pulled her away. "I have no control over the whims of fate, Emma. I do not know where my line has been drawn and set. But I can tell you…." He bit his lip with agrin, leaning his forehead in against hers. "I will continue to do everything in my power to remain at your side until we're both too bloody old to even remember what we're called."

Emma chuckled.

He mussed the sweaty hair away from her. "Come now, let's get back to sleep, we must be going back to negotiate with Elsa tomorrow. We should be rested and have our wits sharp."

"Ok…"

They both leaned back in their bed and she sighed as she settled for round two of sleeping. It wasn't hard. Not with him, not feeling as safe and warm as she felt with him.

He had gone through heaven and hell for her… that was proof enough that he was solid as a rock.

He was her home too.

THE END.


End file.
